I Didn’t Like You Very Much When I Met You
Best. Concert. Ever.
As a concert goer, I was a late bloomer. I didn’t go to a gig until I was seventeen years old and that first sweaty, ear pummeling had a lasting effect on my existence. It was transformative, so much so that I wasn’t even the least bit concerned when my ears were still ringing three days later.
Before 1991, I loved music but it wasn’t part of my identity. I consumed and sang along to whatever was popular but I wasn’t discerning. I hadn’t formed an attachment to a genre and I had no interest in who made the music, or what it was about.
Now at seventeen, all of a sudden getting into music seemed like a necessity.
After graduating from secondary education, I chose to stay on at school to further my studies, while the sporty kids who I’d struggled to integrate with mostly left, giving me an opportunity to rebuild my identity. I soon fell in with a new geeky crowd. I assimilated quickly and felt instantly more at home around these people, who had a similar cynical world view to myself; however, when they talked about music, I was in the dark. Indie music was an unknown to me but the girls I was attracted to liked it and my new social circle all appeared to be well-versed, so I made a conscious decision to educate myself.
