Have you ever been to the opera? Or the theatre? How about the ballet? Even if you haven’t, chances are you’re aware of the etiquette of attending. Arrive on time, take your seat, enjoy the show. Simple. So why is there such a distinct lack of similar manners in live music?

Now this isn’t sour grapes. The wonderful thing about live rock as removed from the more refined entertainments is the anarchy, the beer, the sweat, the noise, the sticky carpet, the joie de vivre. Anything can happen, and often does. These things add a layer of charm and excitement to shows that already have the potential for spectacle and wonderment. Even a bad show still can be relied on for an experience or two, a song that rises above the muck and creates a moment, not to be soon forgotten, that makes the price of entry worthwhile, despite 13 other songs that don’t make the grade.

Which raises the question; why, if people spend up to $50 to see a gig at a local pub, do they feel the need to ignore the band for much of the gig and engage in conversation with their cohorts? Everyone has experienced this at some point - enjoying a show, the band starts up a quieter song, building atmosphere and emotional intensity (perhaps it’s one of your favourites) and some half-cut, mulletted, socially retarded nerf-herder is busily engaged in voluminous conversation a metre to your right. The responsible thing to do would be to glass his overly moisturised face and lay into him until security realise what you’re doing and dispose of the body. But we live in polite times, some of us, and we either silently sit there stewing in our own boiling blood, or turn and gently request that they shut the fuck up. Which sometimes works until the end of the song, when the whole process repeats itself.

So, why? The easy answer is that they are a member of that introduced pest, the one-song fan. This vermin, once under control, has become increasingly prominent in pubs the world over, rocking up to shows that they’ve forked over serious coin to attend, only to pay scant attention to proceedings, until the one song they’ve heard on KLON (clone radio – thanks Josh Homme) comes up, at which point they sing along (only to the chorus) with commendable vigour. They then resume their conversation.

This could be considered endemic of a consumerist society with too much spare cash. But it can’t be all. Some people may have poor attention spans. And some people, regrettably, are just tools.

Another growing problem is the increasing prevalence of tall people. Now this, in and of itself, is no real problem - tall dudes are just as entitled to check out shows as the rest of us - but is there any more frustrating experience at a gig than, after patiently and courteously watching the support act from a position of comfort, with just enough personal space, having some six foot eight gorilla with hair lifted directly from an episode of Starsky and Hutch, assuming a spot directly in your line of sight five minutes before the headliner hits the stage? It's bad enough that anybody muscles their way to a prime position having arrived from the public bar with moments to spare, but to have that person stand at a height so lofty that medieval civilizations would probably have worshipped him goes beyond the pale. And this isn't to mention people who wear very fashionable but highly obstructive fedoras to gigs.

One solution, while controversial, that raises its head (ugh, sorry) is the notion of charging taller people more to see a gig. After all, they get a better view. It could be labeled as discriminatory, but one could easily argue that those of more diminutive stature have been experiencing the discrimination of live venues for decades. Simply register your height upon buying the ticket, and walk past a mug shot-style measure while you walk in. Easy. This would also serve to stop scalping of tickets at big events, too, come to think of it. Second, free beanies for all! If indie fans insist on sporting the shaggy manes that are du juor at the moment, then have the venue provide them with a free beanie, bought from Kmart for $2. Everybody wins.

Having offered these solutions to what are, in essence, pretty small problems in the larger scheme of things (even shows seen from behind a modern day flock of seagulls can still thrill and enchant), there is one overriding answer. Show some manners. If there's a girl who's a touch over five feet tall, don't go callously taking the space in front of her. If you want to have a prolonged conversation about things other than the gig at hand, then head to the public bar. If you're super tall, even though it's not your fault, maybe stand over to one side, so there's a wall behind you, instead of some vertically challenged dude who is very seriously contemplating homicide. And if you have a massive head of hair, would it kill you to get a trim?

WB Note: Ed Butler stands 181cm tall and shaves his head. He watched Okkervil River play at the Corner with WB writer Geoff Lemon, who stands at least 312cm tall, and felt horrible about it the whole time.