Gig Goer Confessions
What happens behind a local gig’s walls usually stays behind a local gig’s walls. But for Confessions of a Gig Goer, The Note is lifting the lid. These are the anonymous, unfiltered, unhinged and occasionally unbelievable stories from the people who make up Adelaide’s music scene.
Image Filip Andrejevic
Knockout Gig Date
I was set up on a blind date and we got some pizza and then went to the Exeter for a gig. By the time we got to the Exeter, the date had kinda fizzled out, but I was determined to still have a good night. We were listening to the first band when I turned and realised that he had left. I initially thought, “Wow, okay. Rude way to leave,” but then I thought I’d better try and find him. I walked outside and the poor bloke had his head in his hands and blood all over his face. Poor fella walked outside because he overheated, then passed out and fell straight to the ground. He ended up staying in the hospital overnight. I would love to say he fell head over heels for me, but it didn’t end up working out.
– Miss Knockout
Bare-Chested Man Traumatising My Nan
Ages ago I played this gig, and invited one of my (then) bandmates (let’s call him Gus) to have his band on the lineup. Everything’s going fine, running a bit late but whatever, that’s literally every gig ever. Then it’s Gus’s band’s turn to play. They hop on stage and I immediately get this impending doom feeling. I try to brush it off like, “What’s the worst that could happen?” (Everything bro). Three songs in, they’re metal screaming (really badly btw) and starting a full-on mosh in this tiny bar, and next thing I know, the guitarist and singer’s shirts are OFF. Fully bare-chested, drenched in sweat while writhing around on stage. I’m standing there, despising my life, making eye contact with my grandmother like, “wtf did I just allow at my gig?” But before I can recover, there’s a loud pop. Gus’s guitarist has just short-circuited my $800 amp that I’d bought three days ago (fml). When they finally get off stage (praise be), it’s our turn to play, and we had to run my guitar straight through the PA. Bro then proceeds to forget half the set and is drunker than my uncle on Christmas, which for context, is very drunk. Anyway, Gus is no longer in the band, and my other band members never fully emotionally recovered, and I have not either! And will not – be subjected to his bare chest ever again xx
– Aname Alastname
Wet and Wild 21st
It was my 21st birthday, and instead of having a nice, controlled celebration like a normal person, I decided to get obliterated at a local music show because I’d never seen LOLA, Pity Lips or Looch live before and I wanted my first time to be iconic, especially on THE NIGHT of my birthday. It was, but not in the way I hoped. By the time the bands had started, I had consumed what can only be described as a scientifically concerning amount of alcohol. I was on that special level of drunk where everything feels spiritual and you start saying things like “This is art” while holding a lukewarm drink. As soon as they started playing, I felt it. That internal shift. The sudden bladder panic. My brain calmly whispered, “We should pee.” My bladder screamed, “WE ARE ALREADY PEEING.” But here’s the thing – I was right up front. I had clawed my way through the crowd like a feral creature, determined to experience LOLA properly for the first time in my life. I refused to give up that spot. I thought I could hold it. I thought I had willpower. I was so wrong. Right there, during a song I didn’t even know the words to yet, I straight up peed myself in the crowd like it was a normal and acceptable thing to do. I stood there clapping and cheering like a functioning member of society, while my soul quietly left my body. To make it worse, someone spilled their drink nearby, and I pretended that was also me so I could merge my shame with a random vodka lemonade on the floor. I even did the whole “Haha!! Someone’s drink went everywhere!!” By the time LOLA actually came on and I was finally seeing them live for the first time – something I had genuinely been so excited about – I was standing there, damp, euphoric and unwell, clinging onto consciousness and dignity like they were wristbands I’d already lost. The gig ended, and by that time, I had entered a new level of existence. My friends asked if I was okay, and I just said, “Yeah, it’s my birthday,” like that explained the situation of being 21 years old and marinating in my own chaos. So yeah. That’s how I celebrated my first time seeing LOLA, Pity Lips and Looch – by experiencing live music, spiritual awakening, and full bladder failure in one night. Honestly? Elite night. Would recommend. Maybe pee first, though.
– The Girl Who Peed
First Time in a Mosh Pit
It was my first time in a pit and the mosh opened up and I didn’t know what was happening, so I just stood in the middle like a confused NPC.
– Anonymous
Tap Bandit
Over the last 3–4 years, I’ve nicked so many taps from venues, maybe 10+ taps. I don’t know why. The little knobs you turn the water on with. It’s usually not in one go. If you’ve got a loose cap on the top, every time I take a piss, I’ll unscrew it just a little bit. I’ve nicked them from venues that don’t exist anymore, the newest of venues, I don’t give a fuck. Two places have welded their taps on since – I took it as a badge of honour, honestly. They’re all hanging in a mistletoe formation in my house. When you bang your head on them it sounds like a wind chime.
– Xoxo Big Tapz
Band Piss = Happy Memories
In our band, we have a tradition of doing fun pisses while together. From pissing in bins in hotels, to pissing off balconies and pissing straight onto the floor backstage. The most recent piss that tops it all was recently when we were driving to Melbourne and didn’t want to stop. Our drummer in the back was busting to go and all we had was 1 Maccas cup. We had an awesome system going between the bass player and the drummer where the drummer would piss in the cup, and just before it filled to the top, the bassist would grab it and chuck it out the window and that repeated for a total of 4 cups full of piss. Hell yeah.
– Dickheads 4
Have you got any stories from the local music scene that are just too funny not to repeat, but maybe a bit too risky to have your name attached? Send us your anonymous story time to make it into an issue of The Note.
