One of the things I’ve noticed about myself is that I tend to have a bit of a love/hate obsessive thing regarding what music I listen too. Put another way, when I like something I listen to it pretty much non stop for a short concentrated period of time, download all the back catalogue stuff and then get to the point when I can’t bear to hear anything from that artist for about another 6 months.
An interesting side effect of this behaivour is that I tend to rediscover artists when the gigs that I bought tickets for in the above described obsessed phase then come around.
Last year two such gigs which had this effect on me were Yazoo and Ben Folds. Both artists had featured heavily on my Ipod in early 08, and as part of my short term infatuation I’d bought tickets to see both acts live. But by mid 08 I’d forgotten all about them.
So come the eventual day of the gigs I was nonchalent and not at all excited: in fact to leg it all the way over to Hammersmith/Shepherds Bush was a bit of a pain. But I had bought tickets. And tickets aren’t cheap. So I had to go. Like a family event or good friends birthday it’s a three line whip, and not going would cause more mental effort and anguish than simply turning up.
On both of these gigs I arrived about an hour before the on stage time, enjoyed a couple of swift drinks in a near by pub with friends, then took my place amongst the huddled masses.
And then they came on. And it was loud but crisp. And the lighting was cool. And the audiences were so into it. And I knew all the songs. And I didn’t mind if a few people were a bit in my way. Or a bit too drunk.
So the point of this post? I guess it’s that sometimes things are far more enjoyable without the weight of expectation.
I compare these “low expectation” gigs to ones that I’ve really looked forward to. Where I’ve been counting down the days and hours. Where I’ve hurried poor friends out of pubs to arrive at a venue far too early.
Occasions where I’ve stood down front glaring at anyone who tried to push in and mentally inflicted a horrible death on the couple next to me who won’t stop talking. And I feel a little bit ashamed.
Maybe I’m getting old, but I’ve decided things can be more fun when you don’t have high expectations. Like that strange moment when a classic tune comes on at a wedding and despite yourself, you finally abandon the pretense of looking cool in front of elderly relatives and admit to enjoying yourself at an event you’ve dreaded for months by throwing some shapes on the dancefloor.
And it’s not just gigs: other things that are better without the weight of expectation include: food, restaurants and bars (discover a good one yourself!), films and theatre, relationships, dates and sex, holidays.
It works in business too: in a pitch situation I’d always much rather be the lesser known agency that shows a potential client true insight and desire they weren’t expecting than the major player who everyone has heard of. They have everything to lose but nothing to gain by simply opening their mouth!
In fact the more I think about it the more I think expectations are bad.
Viva indifference! Viva the underdog!
