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The last gig I went to took place a month ago. Miët, the name of the artist.
I had spent the week checking the venue website to see if it was to be another cancelled show (Whispering Sons/Porridge Radio/Big Joanie had during that time morphed into Whispering Sons/Vox Low, then into Zombie Zombie/Vox Low/Cyril Cyril - and I was no longer interested - before being cancelled).
I was surprised to see that the Miët gig could occur and went to see what it'd be like.
It was windy by the sea. There weren't that many people out there at the doors. Miët was not the headliners, and they ain't big names either.
Eventually we came in, there seemed to be more staff behind the doors than audience.
I was the first to enter the place, and felt it seemed so small with the pit stacked with black folding chairs. Mask on my face, I sat down. The ranked scarcely filled in.
The show was good to me, except that I was sitting, and that it restricted my moving to the music. Miët played a new song that felt really good. As there were not too many people in the audience, the clapping and cheering sounded a bit hollow. Plus she wasn't the headliner.
When the headliner came in, it was more cheerful, even though I couldn't grasp why, since it quickly turned out that the blokes on stage, those wearing a guitar, had no idea what rhythm and melody meant. I turned my attention to a guy in the row before me. He was attempting some headbanging moves while being seated like the rest of us. I didn't like at all the music, but wasn't that pissed 'cause I had liked Miët.
This was her first show in quite a while. She felt it was odd too.
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