... and Moshpit Tragedies

ah, tis a strange sweaty beast the moshpit, and in the shakespearien sense, some tragedies are inevitable. boots in the head, faces squashed into sweaty backs, injuries, et cetera...

yes the bogan within dragged me along to soundwave 2011 (too old for that moshing malarky though) but interesting to see, out of 10 000 punters, about 9 000 micro-sub-genres of punk, hardcore, thrash/trash/speed/death/black/whatever-core even glam rock... (and whatever genre Primus is, still unsure.) where do these people come from? but there must be some psychological necessity that the 'pit fills in young men (predominately), culminating in a tribal-esque, trance-like state almost.

so i reminisced about all my moshpit tragedies (stupidities?) ...

MPT #1 Ammonia, 1995 - yes along time ago and fittingly i had long hair. landing on my back amongst stomping boots, some helpful gent decided to help me up, yanking on my arms while having both feet planted firmly on said hair. yank, yank, ow i said quietly to myself. lesson learned.

MPT #2 Green Day, 1997 - again a long time ago. with both shoes coming off repeatedly and my teenage refusal to tie my shoelaces, I took them off and threw them over the barrier, on to the massive pile of shoes (?!). afterwards, i collected both shoes (of corresponding make and model, I assure you) with some difficulty, but not until exiting the grounds did I realise I had two left shoes! lesson learned.

MPT #3 Beck, 2001 - finding a spot up the front amongst the throng awaiting the arrival of his beckness, I thought Id go one better than the seething masses, outsmarting them all! (insert evil laugh) I feigned illness and got dragged over the barrier and - astoundingly - i didnt get to meet him or hang out side stage(?!) I got spat out the back of 10 000 people. hmm.

BUT ... Shine-on 2010, the previous days of driving rain and resulting ankle deep mud had sent most revellers retreating to the perceived comforts of suburbia. about 50 people gathered around the small stage for the last act as the sun finally poked through the clouds and a beautiful thing happened. a wrestling and dancing and diving and rolling mass of 20 or so peeps evolved from the puddle. mud was slung and clothes were flung. Brilliant! redeeming the disastrous festival and reinstalling my faith in humanity - or something like that.