Newfoundland audiences, we need to talk
I know you don’t want to hear what I’m about to say, because we’re all stuck in the mindset that we are happy, friendly Newfoundlanders and Labradorians.
We may exude that energy when providing directions to lost tourists, but it seems that our enthusiasm does not extend to live events — or at the very least, the giant, jam-packed, week-long festivals we claim to love so dearly. I’m looking at you, George Street Festival attendees.
I attended a pop-up punk show at Bowring Park last night, with three local bands on the bill. A very large percentage of small crowd clapped, hollered, hooted and whistled with far more intensity than I have seen all week at George Street Festival.
My festival week finished off at The Rose & Thistle for High and Lonesome, a bluegrass jam. This weekly event once again garnered a more enthusiastic crowd response than was heard from George Street Festival goers.
I have to ask — why are you like this? Why weren’t you screaming your heads off when Jim Cuddy laid down an epic riff? Why didn’t you clap with vigour when Bud Davidge from Simani joined Shanneyganock for a heartwarming rendition of “Music and Friends”? Why didn’t you hoot and holler when Sam Roberts played one of his many hits? How about when the Derina Harvey band played beloved traditional tunes? Or when Fortunate Ones broke out their Great Big Sea cover? I could continue.
I’m trying to understand you, audience.
I know you’re double-fisting beers because it’s impossible to move through the dense crowd. I know you probably have to pee and that the nearest bathroom seems a million miles away. I know you are running into longlost friends, family members and neighbours. I get it.
I was there, too.
Yet, amidst all the conversation, sipping and peeing, I tucked my cup under my arms and I clapped, I whistled, I hooted, I hollered. I did everything that the audience was supposed to do. Yet I saw you, nodding at the band as if they could hear your approval. I saw you lifting your beer to the sky in a silent “cheers”. It seemed like you were at least maybe trying to engage. But you weren’t doing a great job.
I felt embarrassed, as an arts supporter, an arts writer, and as a Newfoundlander and Labradorian.
You want bigger bands to continue coming to this faraway, somewhat isolated province? Act like you like it.
The only times you clapped with intensity was for an encore.
How insulting, for the biggest round of applause to come at the end of the show, from an audience that wants more, but couldn’t have been bothered to show their appreciation throughout the whole set.
You didn’t deserve the encores you got.
Do I sound irritable? Grumpy? Crotchety?
That’s because I am. I expect more from a province that claims to love and support the arts and everyone in it.
Here’s hoping the Folk Festival audiences are better at showing their appreciation.
Step up your game, local audiences, and show your love for the many bands — local and come from away alike — who deserve your enthusiasm.
All you have to do is clap.