sitting out.

I sat in the crowd of 20-somethings, who only a few years ago were teenagers with me, and watched Ben Folds hammer his piano with intensity. The seated concert was awkward and uncomfortable. My legs ached to stand, rush the stage and cheer, but the 20-somethings around me sat with their beers in their hands and their blackberry’s buzzing, craving attention, in their pockets. The music was amazing, as I have come to expect. But while sitting I wondered if my music taste has become antiquated enough that all my concerts will now be seated.

I remember back to my days at the Warped Tour, when I would dye my hair pink and wear my coolest ringer tee. Standing out in the sun for hours, my friends and I would watch bands play their 20 minute sets. We’d rush from stage to stage, jockeying for a position toward the front. As the hot North Carolina sun beat down on our golden skin, the dehydration sank deeper, touching our bones, until we conceded to pool our funds and spend $6 on a bottle of water.

Is it weird to rue the day that a painful, blistering, musical experience is permanently traded in for the luxuries and comforts of plush red velvet seating, $500,000 audio systems and expensive lighting?