I couldn’t even tell you the first time I listened to The Beach Boys. “Endless Summer” was such a mainstay of my childhood. I don’t remember when I first heard it or what sucked me in at age 7. I have no idea how I came to possess this greatest hits compilation.
I knew it was getting bad when I couldn’t stop listening to The Smiths. I needed to fade away into “Asleep” and “Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want” constantly. As soon as I’d finish one album, I’d move on to the next and repeat the process as many times as it took to fill the day. Then days. Then a week. Then another week, and still the only music I craved was Morrissey telling me how heartbreaking life is over and over.
What kind of concert-goer are you? In my world, there are two types. (And I hope you’re the right one…)
The first type views a concert as a social activity. They probably buy a ticket because they’re mildly interested in the band or artist or because it’s an excuse to hang out with friends. They half-heartedly remember the date, show up just before the headliner goes on and thinks because they paid money, they’re still entitled to push into the front row.
Testing, testing, 1…2…3…is this thing on? *Ahem.* All right, here goes nothing…Well, my friends, it’s been a while since I’ve been The Good Groupie. Two years, to be exact. When I announced my leave of absence, I made tongue-in-cheek jokes about going on hiatus like our favorite bands do when they just need a damn break from each other.