Concerts Today are Just Spectacals (1976)

Paul and Linda performing in Cincinnati in 1976 -- not knowing that some people were having a terrible experience. 

 I hear a lot of people complaining about the concert experience today, and I agree with most of what they're saying (ticket prices are out of control for most shows these days), so I found this article about the concert experience 50 years ago really interesting.   I, for one, am glad that "festival seating" for the most part is in the past.  I can't imagine the nightmare that must have been for a big concert, and how disappointing it must have been to get there early and find yourself way in the back, unable to see over the heads of everyone standing.  Anyhow I thought this writer had an interesting comentary. 

Concerts Today are Just Spectacals

By Terry Lawson

The Journal Herald

September 2, 1976

     I don't go to concerts anymore, and I feel pretty guilty about it. A good portion of my life revolves around music, and even the best-produced record albums are no substitute for experiencing music live. Communication is, of course, what music is all about, and presumably musicians should communicate best in an environment where they can receive as well as give.

     But I find it hard to fathom that most music fans are getting much out of the vaudeville spectacles that pass for concerts these days. They seem increasingly to have less and less to do with music. My last foray into the arena was to attend the summer's Paul McCartney and Wings concert at Riverfront Coliseum in Cincinnati. The first disappointment came when it was discovered that the Cincy appearance was one of two on the tour that called for "festival seating." To the uninitiated, festival seating is a red herring word for "no reserved seats"; it generally means that the promoter of the concert did not want to go to the trouble and expense of having tickets numbered and ushers hired to guide patrons to seats. Also, with this arrangement, more bodies can be packed into a limited space since there are no seats set up on the floor. 

    To counter this, I and about 4000 others arrived at Riverfront an hour or so early to attempt to get a decent seat. Most of the gathered crowd amused themselves by indulging in the great American pastime, boozing. By the time the appointed door-opening hour had come and gone, the crowd was surly, screaming and smashing empty glass containers against the walls of the arena. When the crowd began pushing against the glass door, the security people panicked and threw all the doors open at once, allowing the 20,000 or so who gathered behind the early birds to swarm in ahead of the mob in front. The promoters also abandoned the idea of collecting tickets, prompting the wheeler-dealers attending the concert to return outside and sell their tickets to the unsuspecting, hoping to score a scalper's ticket at the arena. 

    By the time my friends and I made it inside, the only seats left were behind the stage. $9.50 bought me a beautiful view of McCartney's back. Oh yes, the music was terrific. That is-- the part of it you could hear between the constant barrage of firecrackers being lit and pitched all around the arena. One firecracker sailed perilously close to McCartney's right ear. He hardly blinked, causing an observer to deduce this was sort of de rigurer. 

    Leaving the scene was as revolting as the rest. Vomit and broken glass were everywhere you stepped. The feeling was that of a prisoner leaving Devil's Island. The papers reported the next morning that one concertgoer left the Coliseum and walked directly into the Ohio River, drowning.

     Now this may be somebody's idea of a good time, but not mine. When I related this experience to a friend, he chided me, saying I was just "too old to enjoy myself." The same friend returned to Riverfront the following week to see Yes, his favorite band, and came away with an almost identical reaction. "Maybe I'm too old too," he grumbled. 

    Of course, not all concerts are as poorly produced and managed as the McCartney fiasco. There are some promoters, Bill Graham of Fillmore fame, who come immediately to mind, who are professional enough to avoid the pratfalls and attempt to bring the music-hungry hordes an enjoyable experience. But concerts do not function as purely musical experiences anymore. More and more, they have become excuses for a gathering of the tribes, for young people to assemble, to smoke grass, booze, and revel in their sameness. The music is secondary. Pity, I sure do love to hear live music.