Concerts like you care

12-step checklist to enjoying a show responsibly

1. Do your research. In the age of YouTube, Bandcamp, Wikipedia, and Spotify there is no excuse. Listen up now and get words right later.
2. Show up for the opener, or at least 20 minutes before the headliner comes on. I’ve been to plenty of shows where the opener earned every dollar of my price of admission; after all, every star starts out opening for another, and even acts that are relatively one-dimensional can draw you in for 35 minutes. In any case, be there early enough to be able to complete #3 and #4 to your satisfaction.
3. Stow your stuff. At a lot of venues, you can find places to stow your stuff even at the very front — on top of amps, under elevated stages, side stage. Presumably this is limited to a sweatshirt or jacket, a backpack at worst.
4. Get to a spot you like, and stay there. This means having whatever water/alcohol/etc on you and going to the bathroom before you start. An obvious corollary: This, incidentally, seems like the only fair way to determine who gets to stand in the front. (Taken in consideration with #5, #6.)
5. Only step into empty spaces. The absolute worst person is the one who shows up late to a show then asks people to move aside (or just shoves them) so they can move to the front. You suck. Now, this gets complicated if the show is really crowded, in which case the definition of “empty spaces” is rather smaller in area. If you can’t decide, just think of it this way: Take everyone in the room and regularize their positions into a square grid. Pull them taut to the lines of that imagined map. Any unoccupied space is fair game. In other words: you can step into spaces that are the area of the average personal area, defined as (PA = total venue standing area/number of concertgoers).
6. Height politics. This is both tricky and simple. There are really only three rules I can discern:

• If you really want to be in the front, get there during or before the opener. Remember that just because you are a superfan doesn’t mean that the same isn’t true for everyone else there.
• Offer to switch with shorter concertgoers. Check your six. If you’re tall like me, you’ll almost always be able to see over the person behind you — in which case you should offer to switch spots with them until you’re no longer blocking people. (If you’re a shorter person, you shouldn’t feel bad about asking taller folks to move, as tough as that might be!)
• I find that I’m able to avoid blocking too many views and remain close to the stage by standing to the left or right of the stage most of the time, while remaining in the thick of the show.

6. Always bring protection. Venues vary in terms of loudness. To spare the chance of an overeager venue with a sadistic or incompetent sound man (it happens!), just bring a pair of earbuds along every time, which sometimes really just chill out the harsher parts of the sound. Many venues sell them for a dollar or two.

7. Boosters cawing “marry me” and “you are so hot” to performers are not helping. You’re not the first to think Angel Olsen is darling, and just because you’re proposing doesn’t make it cute—it’s annoying and ingloriously tone-deaf.

8. Don’t hold your phone above your head for an entire song. It is totally okay to take pictures at concerts unless an artist has already stated otherwise. But for the love of Prince, don’t ruin the experience for other fans.

9. Shut up and listen. People are there for a concert. Respect the space. The last time I saw Kurt Vile at 9:30 Club, the show was totally ruined by the casual chitchat going on within the entire back half of the crowd. At a sold-out show, that can easily overwhelm a lighter set, ruining an experience some people may be highly anticipating. (Consensus on the type of experience desired is highly valuable, but difficult to attain except in intimate and intentional settings; this is the value of house shows for the physical smallness of the basements and living rooms it proliferates in, as well as subculture more broadly.)

10. Be prepared if you’re going to mosh. If I know a show is going to get physical, I think ahead. I dress simply — t-shirt and jeans, say— and switch out my glasses for contacts. Sometimes I go as far as wearing athletic shoes—at least something that will help me avoid twisting an ankle or steeltoeing someone in the eye.

That goes towards an understanding of the pit ethics. Most shows, this entails some basic commitment of energy and willingness to be physical, but also positivity and teamwork. I’ve never seen people help one another more quickly and decisively than when glasses or wallets are lost in mosh pits. Keep your arms up and use your forearms to keep bodies away from your elbows and fists. Don’t grope people, help them up when they fall.

A positive, supportive mosh can be most liberating, exhilarating, and empowering. Don’t hold a grudge. Don’t stage dive unless you know the venue is cool with it. Do get your blood flowing and dance whatever dance makes the music sound sweetest.

11. Support the artists if you can. You pay for their music on Spotify, right? Wrong. That shit barely pays. If it’s a house show, bring cash for the touring bands. If you’re at a venue, buy a drink, if not merch (which bands generally make the highest share on); the more the venue sells the more likely they are to bring the band back!

12. Have fun! Stand up. Dance. Sing along. Collaborate with the artists if and when prompted (thank you, Dan Deacon). For the love of god learn to clap on the 2 and the 4. Close your eyes and imagine the performance taking place in space. Drift away. Repeat as necessary.