So... What's your next show?
I found myself standing next to a former coworker at a panel discussion about music not too long ago and I excused myself to wander elsewhere when I could sense the onstage conversation coming to a close. I’ve always enjoyed the company of this person, he’s funny, insightful, and always leads with his great taste and tailored recommendations. But he’s also among the most fervent spectators of live music of anyone I’ve ever met. When we’d catch up around the office and he’d ask me what shows I was going to next, I usually came up empty. And I felt… judged.
How could it be that someone who worked in (or during the latter years) heavily adjacent to the Music Department of a public radio station spend so little time engaging with live music? How was it that he, a person who worked in a much more business-forward department, was a better music fan than someone so adjacent to the music team? This is how it came to feel, anyway. I’m almost certain that his inquiries came from a place of genuine curiosity and my shame around rarely having a satisfying answer came from a place of projected imposter syndrome. But I came to dread those interactions nonetheless. And now here I was again: Fight or flight? Prattle of skedaddle?
So yeah, I chose to skedaddle, but the more I think about it, the more I wonder why I did. Neither of us work for the organization in question anymore. I haven’t locked in my new longterm career goals just yet, but I’m not angling for a job where my enthusiasm (or lack thereof) around attending live shows would make or break me. For a moment, when this person arrived and stood next to me, I thought about how we might chit-chat after the panel, how he would ask me what shows I’d be going to next and I’d respond: “none!” Joyous, gleeful, no couching, no hemming or hawing about things that I “might want to check out.” I would be free to reveal that I might never attend another concert again for the rest of my life… with zero personal or professional consequences for responding as such. Instead, I opted out entirely. I’m mostly ok with my decision. Performing extroversion, or actively taking a stand against performing extroversion are each exhausting in their own ways. Finding a polite exit route to escape overwhelm is always acceptable.
But next time, I want to engage. This guy that I decided to avoid last week is far from the only person in my life who routinely wants to know about my concert calendar. I have another acquaintance who I’m convinced goes out every single night, 365 days a year. I’ve been practicing for the next time I run into him. Responding honestly to his question about my current relationship to nightlife, then playfully and in good faith turning the question around on him: “When is your next quiet night in?” I’m pretty sure it’ll get a laugh. I (over)think about these interactions because I never want to lose them entirely. What a lovely life I’ve built for myself that at 41 years old, people who I don’t know all that well are actively invested in who I choose to go out for. In reality, I’m probably going to see Jonathan Richman in a couple of weeks and making a whole day of it in San Pedro with a couple of friends whom I adore. If someone happens to ask me about upcoming shows between now and then, that’s a good answer. If I get asked the same after the JR show has come and gone and I say “nope, nothing for the foreseeable future,” that is also a good answer. What I’m actually seeking is the freedom from having to qualify myself. What I’m actually seeking is peace.