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by Ed Butler
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Tue:22-Jan-08 |
"Thanks very much, you guys have been awesome. This is our last song tonight, thanks again!" Might I draw your attention to the 'last song tonight' bit of that little passage? Wherever you go, whichever city you're in, it's almost certainly a lie. A big, bald-faced lie. They know as well as you do that they'll walk off stage to (hopefully) raucous applause, wait patiently just behind the curtain as the applause continues until reappearing to play a few more tracks as part of what these days is generously labelled an 'encore'.
To set the record straight, barring the launching of rotten fruit at the back of the departing bass player, that band is coming back out. This is how it's done today. An encore is expected. And as a result, the audience doesn't really ask for an encore, but claps politely for a minute or two as they wait patiently for reappearance. The house lights stay down, drum and guitar techs come out and actually re-tune instruments. Set lists have the encore written on them. The encore is now just an abbreviated second set. Then the house lights come on and you know to stop clapping.
This has created a number of conundrums. First and foremost, some bands come out and keep going when no one in the audience really wants them to. Not every gig is so great as to warrant extension, except for the die-hards. But few who have sat through a one hour set is likely to leave at the last hurdle, lest something amazing happens and they've already hit the beer garden for a post-mortem pint. And if the band hasn't killed over the prior 15 or so songs, three more is hardly going to help.
Second, no-one really asks for an encore any more. When an audience is fortunate enough to bear witness to a truly magical performance (and Melbourne has been fortunate enough to play host to several in recent times), they should erupt, screaming that the band be hauled back out by the scruff of their necks, shocked and astonished that they won over the crowd so comprehensively. They should have no idea what songs they're going to play.
The great problem with this is that the encore has lost its lustre. Because everybody expects the show to go on, no one really asks for it. So the band doesn't seem too excited about the request and the whole process feels forced and unnecessary. It's actually refreshing when a band chooses to remain offstage and deny an expectant crowd a repeat performance they haven't asked for with sufficient gusto.
The effect is that the encore has been irreparably cheapened, and it is unlikely ever to be revived fully. The only way to fix this is to take on some responsibility yourself – like separating your recyclables. If enough people stop clapping after a mediocre show, the band might think twice about returning. And if you've been dazzled – and I mean really blown away – then scream, and clap, and whistle, and jump-up-and-down demanding 'ENCORE!' Then maybe, just maybe, the encore can regain some of its wonderment.
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