Miss me less.

I wonder if I am close to breaking my no-outdoor-music-festival rule. I have missed seeing some of my favourite bands in action precisely because of this; I simply dread the idea of having said bands be forever associated with memories of bad red sunburn, muddy white sneakers and maybe yellow hipster sunglasses. But being exposed to the elements is probably child’s play, when compared to being miserably alone and slowly drowning in a sea of thousands.

Truth is, I now crave very much for a more intimate setting between band and fan. And that means being at the front row of a dark concert hall – with blood red velvet drapes that welcome many a cheer; soft, muted spotlights that live and breathe as they appear; and excellent acoustics that resonate with every laboured musical note, and the depth and warmth of a baritone so revered.

Well, there is always a first time for everything. But I am curious to know who has the power to make me a turncoat.