brandon flowers - on the floor
go to a concert and your experience will probably be: stand on a concrete floor for four hours, surrounded by a bunch of mall girls who prefer to scream-chat at each other rather than listen to the band playing; alternately get whipped in the face with their long hair on those odd moments when they do actually listen because they just spilled their drink on your shoes.
then get nudged by the tall guy who elbows his tiny date into your now-long-established 2 square feet of floor space while he worms his way behind her, and his shoulder now blocks your view of the stage. that is, when his arms aren't raised -- not in exuberance or applause, but in positioning his cellphone camera to get a non-photo image of the performers.
or, decide to skip the opening band, get to the venue moments before the headline act, the band you really want to see, starts up, and find yourself confined to the very back of the hall, craning your neck this way and that to follow the performers onstage as their presence bobs in and out of limited sightlines created by the massive pillars holding up the balcony seating, above.
given the probabilities of the above, crappy soundsystems, forty-five dollar t-shirts, exhausted performers, expensive drinks at overwhelmed bars...why do i go to concerts?
because there's an energy. i've been listening to brandon flowers' flamingo for the past several months, and really liking it...REALLY liking it. but i've never felt it or experienced it. (it's odd that, at a time when i could probably best afford it, i don't possess a working stereo-with-speakers system; the best audio experience i have is in my car, though the default is the ipod, with too-large earbuds that won't fit in my earholes.)
brandon's inconsistent success at holding the notes he sometimes reaches in his own songs doesn't seem to lessen the emotional impact of lyrics that tell stories of a man finding his way in, but mostly away from, his childhood faith. stylistically, flamingo wanders from country-rock to gospel to folk, and only occasionally settles in pop.
...the variety of which makes for an interesting, never dull-bore-tiring concert experience. that, and mr flowers is so, so enthusiastic of his own rockstardom. and i don't say that to be snide or sarcastic: he clearly enjoys what he's become, and that makes for a terrific performer who loves interacting with, and genuinely seems to love, his audience. an audience who loves him right back. loudly.
and that's the energy, that's what made all the horrid factors of an overly-crowded public place so forgettable when driving home after the show last night.
