Head Cleaner : HEY LOOK! A LIVE BAND PLAYING LIVE MUSIC LIVE! LOOK!

Sometimes we don’t stop to think that just because we can do something it doesn’t necessarily mean we should. Alfred Nobel, he of the peace prize, was a chemist and innovator who invented dynamite. A boon for the construction and mining industries, its uses were quickly turned to less noble means by those intent on causing violent political unrest, regardless of its creator’s intentions.

Even more soberly, think of the atom bomb. When the “Little Boy” was detonated by the US over Hiroshima in 1945, scientists behind its technology didn’t have exhaustive knowledge of its power. They simply didn’t know what they were doing and what might happen. It could well have led to a global cataclysm rather than localised annihilation, but the stakes indicated they should gamble with the discovery. After all, it was there to be used and technological advances, even when sadly used to deplorable ends, can’t be undone. Their uses can be twisted, or simply misapplied.

The state of the music industry and its changing climate obviously pales into insignificance next to this, but the same sort of logic puzzle is at hand – now the trap’s sprung, how do we use what we have for the best? The massive development and wholesale adoption of digital technology has empowered and, concomitantly, impeded the industry in key, now indelible, ways – see MJ's excellent first post for more on that. I’m interested in the social fallout, and will write about that over the coming weeks.

I found myself pondering the could/should question in relation to technology during a recent Bon Iver show at the O2 (*spit*) Academy in Birmingham, a gig I’d been keenly anticipating for months since my ears were treated to "Bon Iver" (mp3 on my iPod, the CD ripped then left to gather dust, obvs). I left irked, despite having heard a flawless set of gorgeous, lilting, crystalline songs, along with Beth/Rest.

Get those jacket sleeves rolled up!

Why so annoyed? Simple - the impact of high spec, mobile technology on our social spaces is now telling, and is tainting our collective behaviour.

Look, I like people. I mean… I think I do. At any rate I really do try to - I’m even trying to be an informed and well-adjusted one – but they’re fucking difficult to like at times. There’s an elephant in the room here: essentially and unavoidably, people are idiots, and sometimes I find myself relentlessly wondering just exactly what they’re for. Quite a lot of them seem to like Mumford and Sons, for instance, some even choosing to dress like them.

As per my Bon Iver experience, I defy anyone to enjoy a set when surrounded by people mithering about how, “they’re not playing anything loud and fast” and being forced to watch proceedings exclusively through iPhones constantly held aloft, blocking all sight lines to the stage and belonging to tossers wearing red trousers and NHS style glasses they clearly don’t need. Proper hipsters fixated with Justin Vernon are far more retiring and taciturn, everyone knows that.

Exhibit A: “Bon Ivor was shit. I just played Angry Birds, phoned my friend Oli who’s on his gap yah in Ecuador to tell him how shit it was and tried to get #whoisbonivor trending on Twitter.”

The nadir came during 'Skinny Love' in the encore: cue Abercrombie and Fitch idiots brazenly and physically barrelling in front of me (admittedly not hard to do), proclaiming to “FUCKING LOVE THIS SONG!” as a disclaimer before - you guessed it - holding up their phones for the duration, looking away to continue a conversation about which club they were going to after. They sloped off as soon as it ended, presumably to go whole hog and have a lobotomy before drinking their own body weight in WKD. I’d given up watching, exasperated. I told myself “They simply don’t know what they’re doing.” Technology is meant to empower us, but it’s being used in the wrong way, twisted to suit a social need that is, in fact, a construct.

Was that experience isolated? Well, I saw it again to varying degrees at shows by The Naked and Famous, Wild Beasts and The Joy Formidable, all within a couple of weeks, and I very much doubt it’s a phenomenon limited to Birmingham crowds. So, if that behaviour is now de rigueur, what might happen? Well, what really gets me is that it renders the whole enterprise of live music anaemic at best, redundant at worst. Not only is ignoring performance a snub to those trying to entertain you, it’s symptomatic of collective ADD and pathetic attention spans that multi-functional devices like the iPhone empower, regardless of how smart the technology may be. I’m sorry, but you simply don’t need to be able to get on Facebook regardless of where you are at a moment’s notice, and I say that as an advocate and heavy user of the site. Choosing to do this merely allows you to abdicate responsibility for your current experiences and surroundings in favour of paying attention those that aren’t even there.

Is this what happens at gigs in heaven?

Further to this, the swathe of recordings that seemingly surface from every gig now aren’t serving a unified purpose. Granted, super fans at the front can get good quality ones, but they’re mostly grainy and distant affairs, and the noise compression in such environments often means the sound quality isn’t even clear in most cases. Not to mention the annoyance caused to everyone around the person recording during the gig itself, which is sort of the important bit. They won’t be revisited and cherished, shared and coveted. Gone are the days when genuine, hardcore fans would sneak decent grade recording equipment into a gig to bootleg it discreetly. Yes, they probably sold tapes on, but it’s doubtful they profited massively - these privileged few had access to the technology and it’s more likely they felt a need to archive and document performances for others, not just make a few quid.

Outside of a few high profile examples – Radiohead and the Beastie Boys spring to mind - such activity is sadly lacking now, especially disappointing considering the power of the technology we have in our pockets. Taking this further, you could say that old style bootleggers were protecting the sanctity of performance, buttressing the industry at a grassroots level. Now that playing field has been levelled the opposite’s occurring, if anything. Now we’re all empowered by mobile technology, but the impetus has been diluted to homeopathic proportions; we simply don’t need another blurred video of the back of a 6 foot 5 ginger afro blocking someone’s view, soundtracked by a crackly rendition of Holocene. While we’re at it, how does that guy always manage to end up right in front of me at gigs, anyway?

Wouldn’t it be a shame to have this ruined live? YES IT FUCKING WAS ACTUALLY.

So if we can’t stop the technology, what about the behaviour? Some might argue that the performance, if good enough, will quieten a crowd and demand attention. Fine in theory, true to a point, but it seems increasingly rare and is certainly fighting a losing battle now Twitter’s in everyone’s pockets, accessible at a second’s notice. Kathleen Edwards, a fine Canadian singer/songwriter, was the support for Bon Iver. No shrinking violet on record, she set out not to gazump but to complement – she played acoustic guitar, flanked by two guys on electric thoughtfully, skeletally fleshing the sound out, playing a set of almost all new material from her upcoming 4^th record (which sounds like it’ll be excellent). How unintentionally misguided this proved; she wasn’t even given a chance, chatted down by the gabbling horde discussing what they should put as their Facebook statuses. No hyperbole there, by the way – I could actually hear that very thing being discussed. She probably didn’t even have the backhanded compliment of an iPhone thrust in her face to record something. No wonder she got flustered and had to restart Back to Me several times.

Here is a performer performing and - lo! - people are listening.

It seems that the majority of a modern gig audience think they’re there simply there to amass data destined to be informational relics on a dormant YouTube account, at best. They go because they can – the NME said they should - but as they, you know, can’t openly demonstrate that they actually even like live music, they really oughtn’t. I guess you can tell which side of the could/should fence I'm standing on.

So, am I just a luddite? Well, I can answer that by telling you I write this with feet on coffee table, laptop thrumming away, gently cooking my sperm, streaming music via Spotify and posting my selections to Facebook and Last.fm to both inform my friends of my great taste and build a detailed, OCD-enabling record of my listening habits respectively.

So, am I just a misanthrope? Almost certainly – after all, I find myself blissfully alone on a Saturday night, gladly nursing a heroic hangover and using it as an excuse to not go out. I just happen to think that some events are sacrosanct, important gigs ranking high among them. I also hope I’m not alone in this. These are events that, to me, simply mark our lives out. I can’t remember my GCSE grades or what I did for my 18^th birthday off the top of my head, but I can remember the sensation snaking up my spine when I saw Paul Simon play Slip Slidin’ Away live at a small Californian amphitheatre, the atmosphere so quiet and charged you could have heard the proverbial pin drop. This was relatively recently, but still pre-iPhone saturation. My worry is that such an experience may not be repeated now.

The ill-fated Rob Zombie / Bee Gees / Mexican immigrant collaboration.

I once read, and I’m paraphrasing wildly here, that you should read a novel or poem with a level of care and focus that mirrors the attention that the author invested in the work. Makes sense, right? Chat through X Factor Live. You have my express permission there. Otherwise, put the iPhone down and use the senses you were born with.

We need a new gig-going etiquette.