Don't worry, I am just talking about concert goers.
I hate to generalize, because all sorts of audiences act badly. Some old lady with half a lung will be permanently coughing over the quietest parts of a piano sonata, comatose hipsters will silently puff on their cigarettes during a powerful Sonny Rollins cover, and the half human, half sequoia creature will always lumber into position directly between you and the stage. But Wilco, with such beautiful music and stellar performances, somehow attract the most annoying audiences known to man. I'll give you the rundown on just a few of the most frustrating Wilco fans that bore like weevils through the pleasantness of your own concert experience.
The Pouty Paula: The least annoying of the annoying audience members. This girl doesn't move, sway, smile, or bother raising her hands in applause. Music doesn't affect Pouty Paula, as she was probably either dragged to the concert by her boyfriend, or dumped by her boyfriend an hour ago. She's not having a good time, and she wants you to know it. Luckily, Pouty Paula is usually sitting down and thus very easy to see over.
The Dancing Cowboy: Though not necessarily from a rural area, this guy probably drives a truck full of Toby Keith cds. Wilco's slight guitar twang hooked the cowboy like the smelly catfish he speared earlier down at the crick. Instead of cowboy boots, he probably is wearing a more college friendly polo shirt, but he is always identifiable by the folded baseball cap sticking out of his pants. Dancing Cowboy's downfall derives not from his personal tastes, but by the combination of his large frame, frightening enthusiasm for all things Wilco, and insatiable desire to dance. On the bright side, it is quite amusing to see your friend cornered by the Cowboy in the middle of "Shot In The Arm." Watch out for those elbows; they strike like cobras!
The Drunken Ladies: Midway through "Red-Eyed and Blue," you'll probably hear some cackling. A quick scan of the surrounding audience will reveal two or three ladies too young to resort to E-Harmony, but definitely too old to go to the college bar they're attending after the show. During dramatic moments of the loveliest songs, these women will compare how many shots they took an hour ago and discuss their favorite chasers. Tip: Shut these women up by turning toward them with a finger posed by your smiling lips, and gently shushing them. They will mock you, but part of them will be shamed into a calm, submissive state. I learned that via personal experience as a shusher and, I think, also from The Dog Whisperer.
Shouting Man: Not really a man, but more of an ambient spirit, a poltergeist specializing in obnoxiousness. From varying corners come rude shouts of misplaced enthusiasm. Just like with stalkers, obsessive adoration and loyalty will lead them to yell unnecessary encouragement to the band along with aggressive insults to audience members who aren't as obnxiously exuberant as they are. One Shouting Man standing near me irreverently yelled, "You're a poet, Tweedy" with every opportunity his throat allowed. The extrodinary Jeff Tweedy, as frustrated as every other non-shouter, turned to this Shouting Man during "Misunderstood" with a patronizing look and sang pointedly, "You know you're just a mama's boy/ Postively unemployed," finishing sarcastically with "You're so misunderstood." It was GLORIOUS.
Worshiping Wally: No matter how much you enjoy the concert, Worshiping Wally enjoys it more. He's ferociously dancing, he's speaking in tongues, he's pounding against the edge of the stage like a wildebeast. Wally is having a genuinely awesome time - but somehow, it's making you uncomfortable. How can anyone possibly be that happy? Someone else's joy is putting a damper on your good time, and the guilt you feel for being angry with Worshiping Wally is somehow his fault too.
Consider this a warning, a guide to prepare you for the Wilco experience that perhaps lies ahead. However, please don't let the irritating idiosyncracies of the Wilco crowd frighten you from an absolutely astounding concert. The legions of dedicated fans, crazy as they may be, allow for Wilco's freedom in choosing setlists, experimenting within each performance, and also seem to have instilled a responsibility in Wilco to play lengthy, earnest, powerful shows. Wilco members boast a light hearted yet musically seamless rapport made possible by dedicated years of making music, underscored by real friendship. The incredible performances are complemented by setlists that please the audience but seem to excite Wilco as well; of course the band will get around to fan favorite "I'm The Man Who Loves You," but may suprise with a seemingly random selection off of 1996's Being There. And of course, each song is full of unexpected twists, mostly due to guitarist Nels Cline and his electrifying energy (drummer Glenn Kotche deserves a mention in the energy category, as well).
Next time Wilco comes around, learn some anger management techniques and dive into the crowd. You definitely need to see Jeff Tweedy up close- it's both inspring and terrifying.
Highlights at my first Wilco concert: opener Andrew Bird, Jeff's white Graceland-esque suit, Nels flying through the air after tripping, Impossible Germany, Outtasite (Outta Mind), Company In My Back, Forget the Flowers, Hummingbird, Wishful Thinking
Highlights at last Friday's concert: semi-gypsy alt. rock opening band A Hawk and a Hacksaw (comprised of tuba, violin, accordion, and flugelhorn), drummer Glenn standing on his little drum seat as the lights go crazy, Red-Eyed and Blue, Spiders (Kidsmoke), Muzzle of Bees, Side With the Seeds, Misunderstood, You Are My Face, Handshake Drugs, I'm a Wheel, and of course, I'm The Man Who Loves You
One of the best parts: Nels!
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