| in a cosy looking little bar, a small crowd of
people are gathering. the reason they are there is waiting behind a
door still closed: a danish suede cover band called love &
poison. many of
the people are clearly there because they know the band. at least
one person, though, is there just for the music: a young woman,
standing by herself - me. and then the door is opened, people drift
down, the band comes on, and they are actually really good… |
|
the question begs to be asked:
why? why do these young men form a band to play the songs of others?
why does this young woman, me, choose to spend an evening going by
herself to a cover band gig, in a bar whose idea of an improvised
stage is a corner almost blocked from view by a large pillar? what
inspires this interest, and what is its nature?
as with most things, asking is
easier than giving an adequate answer, but i shall nonetheless
attempt it.
being a fan - any fan, of
anything – is a part of your identity. i shall spare the readers
from psychological theories – suffice it to say that it’s widely
agreed that things outside ourselves, like a band, can become part
of our self-concepts. some might say this means we are weak and have
to identify as fans in order to be someone at all. using an analogy,
they’d think that we must be invisible ourselves, and put on this
fandom as clothes, to become visible. that is indeed possible, and
no doubt is what fandom is about for some. however, it is not the
only possible explanation: it might just be that we put on these
fandom “clothes”, not because we are invisible without them,
but, simply, because they suit us. the question, then, is in what
particular way.
it is often said that suede are a band for outsiders, people who don’t
fit in. that is no doubt quite true. however, being a suede fan
should not only be defined by what we are not, but also by what we are. |