Meeting an audience that puts ‘fanatic’ back in fan

Tuesday, 5/27/97 Meeting an audience that puts ‘fanatic’ back in
fan CONCERT: Excessive love for rock stars brings up questions of
adoration

I went to a concert Wednesday night. This is no rare occurrence
for me; I have the privilege of going to many shows, and I often
leave in a reflective mood, whether it was about the music or the
performers. Well, after this particular show, I was reflective for
a different reason: I was thinking of something that really never
hit me hard before. The show in question was Suede. As I was
watching one of my favorite bands play, I was also looking at the
crowd. No doubt, they were into the show, bouncing and moving
about, screaming and singing along with lead singer Brett Anderson.
But as Andersen neared the edge of the stage, the fans went crazy.
People started crowd surfing just to touch the British hunk. Girls
began to grab his every appendage. Guys were climbing over people
in the front to touch him as well (he’s taken over Morrissey’s
boy-toy throne). It was madness. People squashed each other just to
get closer to their idol, hoping to shake hands, pat him on the
shoulder, cop a feel and the like. I just sat there in complete
awe. There are fans that will do anything to get close to their
idols or see them in person. And I’m not really talking about
stalkers. I’m talking about normal, sane people like you and me
(well, maybe just people like you) who appreciate good music and
are entertained by the charisma of band members. At the backstage
party after the Suede show, there were a ton of fans from Suede’s
fan club clutching old records, posters, CDs, etc. After watching
the show, I immediately feared for poor Brett’s life. Sure enough,
when he surfaced, he was surrounded in seconds by his adoring
legion of followers, like he was Jesus or something. I just stood
back and remained the disbelieving yet amused spectator. I had
never really thought this hard about fan adoration. Then again,
I’ve never been within three feet of a rock star with 50 other
fans, either. Wow. As I grabbed some couch and sipped my ice water,
I immediately thought of that footage I saw recently of the Beatles
on Ed Sullivan. Those girls were psychos. Imagine being on stage
and having hundreds of crazed females screaming at you, ready to
break down the barriers to bum rush you (actually, now that I
really think about it, that sounds pretty cool). The Beatles had
the most insane fans. It never hit me, though, until I saw it in
person. I mean, we see people crowd around celebrities all the
time, but when you get up close and people are crushing each other,
it’s something that will blow your mind. The Grateful Dead are
notorious for their devoted fans. However, these are a completely
different type of fans. I’m not sure if hordes of Deadheads tried
to molest that lean, hot stud Jerry Garcia. But I’m willing to bet
that they didn’t. The Dead had people who went to hundreds of their
shows. Some Deadheads didn’t even have jobs; they got by from
selling tie-dye shirts or food in the parking lots of shows. Now
that Jerry’s singing in that big bongload in the sky, the Deadheads
have left the parking lots of all the Shoreline Amphitheaters
across the nation. Instead, those abandoned lots are now being
occupied by Phish’s following. Phish is a lot like the Dead – a
laid-back, bohemian jam band for whom people have the same sort of
affection. The Phishheads are a giant cult who are actually normal
people in real life. I can’t see them overturning cars if Phish
were to cancel a show. I’d label those fans as sanely devoted.
There are a bunch of other groups who have extremely devoted fans
who fall short of that pubic-hair-soliciting groupie sect. The Dave
Matthews Band is one example. Toad the Wet Sprocket is another.
Depeche Mode, Fugazi, Cypress Hill, Blues Traveler, Oasis … they
all are notorious for their devoted and passionate fans. Then there
are those select fans who are completely in love with certain rock
stars. The REAL groupies. The most awesome display of hormones in
overdrive is the fan trying to climb onstage to hug some rock star.
A lot of the British pop stars, like Damon Albarn of Blur and, of
course, the ever-hassled Brett Anderson, find themselves being
joined on stage with all sorts of strangers with a demonic look in
their eyes. Then again, people like Albarn, Eddie Vedder,
Morrissey, and Bono welcome that sort of thing, often playing
around with them on stage, much to our entertainment. But I think
it’s a lot more fun to watch some berserk person run on stage to go
rush, say, Courtney Love. What are these idiots thinking? Like I’d
run the chance of being kicked out of a show I paid good money for
on the 10 percent shot I’d actually get to grope the singer. U2
still has a unique (albeit large) fan base. They, too, have a
massive Internet presence. There are always fans waiting outside
the parking lots of stadiums at sound checks and three hours after
the show, knowing the band usually comes out and meets fans during
those times. U2 have every sort of fan imaginable, from the ones
that camp outside their hotels and recording studios to the ones
who have frightening crushes on various band members (except poor
Adam … nobody’s obsessed with Adam). One fan from U2’s mailing
list, Wire (in itself a wonderful case study of extreme
fanaticism), got to meet Bono at a hotel recently and presented him
with a pin of a Keith Haring angel (this girl is coincidentally
nicknamed "Aingeal") that would look over him for the whole tour.
Bono was clearly moved and embraced the fan. Others have been known
to steal studio demo tapes and promo videos, which actually led to
the first bootleg on the Net in history. There are others, I’m
sure. The whole phenomenon of idolatry is quite astounding. Maybe
it’s the sex appeal. Maybe it’s the starstruck nature in all of us.
Or maybe we look to create heroes. I know I have my heroes in
music. I’m not much of a stage-rusher, nor have I taped a live
show, but I find something special in each of my music heroes. We
all deal with being a part of an artist’s world one way or another.
It’s just that some of us aren’t as crazy as others. Prevatt is a
third-year history student. Mike Prevatt

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