When the House was too Crowded

I will preface this blog by stating that this is not a complaint about Crowded House. Not at all. They were as gorgeous as ever, with Neil whirling his way across the stage between heart-aching vocals (a Spinning Finn, no less), and fabulous effects and backing and tune choice and all those things that make a gig great. Okay, they should really, REALLY have sung Better Be Home Soon, so I could have been transported back to the Manchester Apollo fifteen or more years ago when I first fell inexorably in love with them. But other than that, it was wonderful. Crowded House on their home turf. Who could ask for more?



But the crowd?! Who let them in? What is wrong with audiences these days, that they come to a sold-out concert and barely make it out of the bar, and then stand at the back in knots and talk at the top of their voices so that Spinny Finn and his cohorts are inaudible?



I experienced the same thing on Christmas Eve a few months ago, only that was at a pantomime in the suburbs of Manchester. The audience was mainly kids, and their parents who were hardly more than kids. Their mass ADHD inability to concentrate for more than two seconds without beating each other with a glow-stick appalled me (and that was the parents), but then at least the pantomime was badly-acted and poorly-scripted and probably didn't warrant much more attention.



But this was Crowded House, people - NZ legends and icons and all those other words we overuse so regularly these days. They performed with poise and elegance and gusto, while twenty rows of 'fans' at the back yelled into each other's faces, spitting beer phlegm, and would have been more suited to the Manchester scene. Manchester United. On Derby day.



Of course, the only time they weren't all making a racket was the one moment when I appeared to be the only person in the room who knew what was coming. The lights broke during Don't Dream It's Over (when I was actually wishing it was), and a lone light bulb swung out over the audience. Okay. Seen this before at the many CH concerts I've attended. Neil will strum, then it's over to the audience. Sure enough, next second, he strummed, and I opened my mouth wide as taught at my many TAPAC courses and belted out: 'Hey now, HEY no--ow ...'



Not another soul was singing. Well, actually - one other soul was singing: Neil Finn. But he was right down the front. The whole footy crowd in the back third of the room turned around and stared at me. 'Oh, that's right,' I thought. 'NOW you're quiet.'



Anyway, soon the rest of the audience caught on, and the crowd around me turned back to their beer-swilling and ignoring the music. And then it was over and we ran out. Better be home soon, I thought with menace. I was. And seeing as Neil and co didn't do it, I got out my guitar and slaughtered the whole song all by myself.



Next time (if there is a next time) I'm paying for the Royal Box.