Disclaimer: I took my fair share of women’s studies courses in college and am well aware of the ethical gender complexities of the music industry (or any industry, for that matter). This article seeks to neither condemn nor condone the objectification of groupies/fangirls in any way. Rather, it seeks to analyze the behavior of a couple of individuals in terms of their motives, actions and satisfactions.
This past weekend I ventured to the sandy bosom of Jax Beach for the Fourth of July festivities and to catch the Supervillains the following day. Quite predictably they blew my mind/eardrums, played every song I wanted to hear and even granted me some practice in the art of the stiff-arm (I’m looking at you, mosh-tweakers).
Before our favorite Jaeger-guzzling, ganja-toking gods took the stage I was lucky enough to witness some very interesting antics.
Via: readjunk.com
Two or three bands played before the Supervillains. By the time Prideless (who are pretty great, by the way), the final opener, played, the crowd had swelled substantially. Questionable substances were being smoked (“You dipped it in what?”), beers were sloshing (“Two dollar tall boys?! Fucking right!”) and kids were skanking their little hearts out. The level of stoke in the crowd was almost tangible.
A girl jumped on stage and started to dance around with Prideless. She was doing all right, I guess, just sort of grinding there with this weird lip-biting expression that was vaguely reminiscent of the parrot my dad got me when I was nine. It was obvious that she was trying really, really hard to look hot – which was utterly unnecessary because she was already hot in the first place.
After about 17 seconds of awkward pelvic thrusts she proceeded to take out her iPhone and take a forward-facing photo (I refuse to use the S-word) with the frontman. By this time, the song had ended and the entire establishment was almost silent.
Via: blogspot
Maybe it was the silence, maybe it was the blatant self-absorption, but it was really fucking awkward.
Prideless started to play their next song, the bouncer came and threw the girl off the stage and, four seconds later, a different girl was catapulted onto the stage with the help of a couple burly friends.
This was a totally different display of fangirldom. She was jumping around like a mad woman and doing the wildest air guitar I’ve ever seen, the whole time smiling so hard it looked like her cheeks were going to shatter.
She wasn’t trying to look hot; she was just dancing crazily on stage with a band she obviously adored. Her hilarity and happiness were contributing to the entire experience in a way that wasn’t purely about being the newest addition to some kid’s spank bank (although I’m sure she earned her way there, regardless) — she was having fun.
Via: favim.com
The bouncer was, at the very least, subtly impressed, because he awarded this girl about 30 seconds longer on stage than the previous chick.
What does this all mean? I don’t know. If you want to be a groupie, be passionate and creative about it because it might just grant you a couple more seconds on stage. And that’s all you want, right?
Maybe your ass-shaking antics will never grant you a heart-to-heart, analytical conversation with Skart about Bradley Nowell’s impact on reggae and the political gray area behind Sublime with Rome, but that’s not really what you were aiming for when you jumped on stage, was it?
Featured photo courtesy of: vh1.com
