By Bridget Batchelor
On Tuesday I saw the mighty Kasabian at Plymouth Pavilions. Well, I say 'saw'... Being somewhat vertically challenged I viewed them mainly in short, one-second bursts on wobbly, beer-slippery tiptoes. I did, however, get a lovely, clear view on the screens of the many, many smartphones held aloft by members of the audience.
Call me old-fashioned (and I probably am), but I long for the days when the only obstacle to a clear view (aside from my height, or lack thereof) was the World's Tallest Man, who follows me everywhere; gigs and festivals, the cinema and crowded bars.
Now I have technology to contend with. Just as I've cleverly weaved my way behind WTM's shoulders (he's blessedly static, not being a fan of dancing) and balanced myself on my very tiptoes – yes! A clear view of Serge! – up comes a double-handed iPhone hold, and as I spot the little red 'record' button, my heart sinks.
I have a couple of issues with this, and my interrupted view isn't even one of them. After all, I've spent many years enjoying some great performances, sometimes not catching a glimpse of the band at all. Take The Red Hot Chili Peppers in Hyde Park in 2004 – we were so far back you couldn't really see the stage with the naked eye – and Slayer at Donington Monsters of Rock in 1995, when I fainted from heat exhaustion (no, honestly, I was only 15) and spent the following couple of hours sitting at my dad's feet. Rock 'n' roll.
It's not even the taking of photos that annoys me. We all like a nice memento – well, one we'll probably look at once, realise the quality is crap, post it on Facebook anyway, and then promptly forget about. I did it myself, at this very gig, so there.
No, it's the recording of minutes and minutes of footage, which will turn out to do the band no justice at all, all the while broadcasting a tiny, illuminated concert to the poor people behind who are missing the main event because the eye is drawn unavoidably to your Hello Kitty-clad smartphone. It's like TVs in pubs – you know want to chat to your mates but your brain seems to think you'd much rather be watching that advert for weed killer.
And what are you going to do with these terrible, wobbly, nausea-inducing videos, especially when you realise you've picked up the sound of WTM singing along tunelessly to Shoot the Runner? You're going to post them all on social media, auto-playing on our news feeds (thanks for that horrifyingly irritating feature, Facebook).
Don't get me wrong, I love a bit of social media, I just believe its place is sharing interesting, quality content and - yes, why not? - funny pictures of cats. Not shaky, tinny, blurry videos of a band I didn't buy tickets to, because I don't much like them (I don't mean you, Kasabian).
And, more importantly, I really don't understand why you would purposefully miss great swathes of live music while watching it record through your screens. Here's a thought: Put the camera away, and use your eyeballs and your brain to enjoy and remember the show.
I saw a few instances at last night's show which I found quite depressing. There was a lot of posting on Instagram - fair enough, but soon someone's pint of Tuborg is going to come flying at your iPhone - but the worst was one young lady who spend two whole songs (two!) texting furiously. I honestly don't think she looked up once.
It's not only us poor folk in the audience getting all het up about this. The Yeah Yeah Yeahs made their views known in no uncertain terms, and I tend to agree. I know this is the smartphone generation, and society is adapting to life with information, entertainment and communication at its fingertips 24 hours a day, but we're in serious danger of losing the ability to experience, enjoy and lose ourselves in the moment. Do you really want to miss that moment when Serge looks you right in the eye, because you're too busy looking at your iPhone screen? Thought not. To close, you've probably all seen this, but this short video makes the point perfectly. Go, live, enjoy.
