There is something so invigorating about being in a darkened theater with a thousand strangers standing, packed like sardines anxiously awaiting the arrival of Hozier.
There is something about the feeling of your heart pounding to the beat of the low notes from the bassist of Bad Suns and something about lying on a grassy knoll while some of the most memorable artists you have heard play on 107.7 The End are playing live, right above your toes.
The feelings I receive from going to a concert are some of the best I have ever felt in my life and I would recommend that everyone experience them more than once in their lifetime. These memories are what keep me alive and young and no matter how awful my dancing skills may be, I always feel the definition of a dancing queen when I am experiencing one of my most admired musicians for the first time.
There are numerous different concert venues; there are arenas, small standing-room theaters and my personal favorite–festivals. These venues all elicit a different experience than the next.
Arenas, are my least favorite of all the concert venues I have attended. Do not get me wrong, I love going to any concert regardless of the venue but there is always a more preferred venue than those such as Key Arena. These concerts, to me, are just so much less personal. You are not really getting the full experience of being close to the artist and feeling the music close up.
My three arena concerts were all incredibly lively: One Direction (yes I cried when they came on stage), Maroon 5 and Katy Perry. Katy Perry was wild from start to finish, from her 40 background dancers dressed as jungle animals, to the firework show featuring “Prism Vision” glasses that every concert goer received at the beginning of the show in order to enhance the effect of the light show.
Nothing can be said about standing-room theaters except that they are an experience like no other. From the wide range of Seattleites in the packed Showbox dressed in an eclectic combination of high-waisted shorts and combat boots, to the dense smog that chokes the concert goers with its illegal and anxious, deodorant deprived smells.
From The Neighbourhood to Bad Suns there is a highly diverse crowd of enjoyers of music. Music has no limits; a genre of music does not define the population of its listeners.
You will find this same diversity at festivals, ah those beautiful, beautiful festivals. These concert experiences are my definition of summer. The thrum of music is everlasting at a festival, never letting your ears sleep there is constant, harmonious noise.
My favoritism towards festivals started at age 10 when my parents took me to my first concert, Creation Fest at The Gorge. Creation fest is a Christian music festival lasting three days and includes many musicians as well as speakers.
In the past two years I have attended close to 20 concerts. Some people may say that going to this many concerts is a waste of money and two years ago I probably would have agreed with them; however, I came to a realization not too long ago that if I am not going to spend my money on things that make me happy such as seeing my favorite bands live, then I have no purpose to save my money.
Especially while I am young and do not have things such as taxes and insurance to pay for, I might as well live it up and spend it on things I enjoy. I mean sure there is college and a new car in my future that I will need to save for but why not enjoy music in the now while I am young and able to jump and dance?
These thoughts have been my anthem since I began high school, with so many things happening around me to stress out about like tests, grades and deadlines I need some way to get away from it all to clear my head. Even if that means spending upwards of 40 dollars to stand for five sweaty hours listening to a group of people slamming away at the keys and pounding the drums; at least it is filling my head with something other than the negative thoughts of how to prepare for that English final or how to get over the nerves of performing that singing test in front of the whole choir.
I just hope that the fondest memories I will recall from my high school years will be those of my friends and I standing outside donned in hats and coats in the winter only to take them all off once inside the doors to see Bad Suns and New Politics for the second time; or lying in the scorching heat of the August sun at The Gorge awaiting the overdue rescheduled performance of Sam Smith.
Regret will never be held in the memories of the five hours that those $100 tickets bought.