Toto, We're Not in Camden Anymore...

I was giddy this January when I stepped off the plane at Heathrow, tickets in hand to see some bands that I love who rarely come to the U.S. I spent five months in London earlier this year, and got spoiled by its amazing music scene. There was always an awesome gig to go to! Everyone knew about Crystal Castles! 7” singles were available in stores, not just on ebay for five times their normal price! London felt like a musical wonderland, particularly in its abundance of great gigs.

Don’t get me wrong; there are a lot of things I love about America. We have Coachella and SXSW (and lower sales tax and better Mexican food). But our live music scene is quite different from the bounty that London’s high density of gigs offers.

A major hindrance for American concert addicts like me is the sheer size of the country, which prevents the kind of centralized, dedicated concertgoing that London offers. I live on the East Coast about two hours south of New York, an area dotted with urban, musically inclined enclaves. But my Last.fm events list often yields only a few results for each day, and driving two hours or more to a gig is a regular part of life. While a friend of mine in England has to choose which Muse gig he wants to attend near his hometown, I find myself just hoping they’ll add a date somewhere within a two hundred mile radius. I imagine it would be many times worse if I lived in the vast stretches of the Midwest. Distance also makes it harder for up and coming bands to promote their music by touring; it’s one thing to drive from London to Liverpool in a shoddy van, another to make the trek from New York to Austin without a label backing you. The constraints of space make fans of local scenes in America more devoted, but also prevents a lot of small bands from contributing to scenes in more than a few cities.

However, I’m not trying to say that I haven’t seen amazing gigs here. In fact, the U.S. is a great place to see international artists who haven’t quite broken the American market, particularly at SXSW. One of my favorite gigs of the past year was a fabulous Wombats show in the tiny, sweaty basement of First Unitarian Church, arguably Philadelphia’s most unique venue. And I have to give credit to East Coast cities, especially Baltimore, where the local music scene is expanding exponentially. But Americans also favor gigs in the giant, nondescript arenas that populate the country. I’ll desperately miss bigger shows in London’s singular venues, particularly Camden’s theater-style Koko and the vast, glass-ceilinged Olympia.

But the venue doesn’t make the gig, and there’s another fundamental rift between the scenes in England and America.

English fans are intense. When they go to gigs, it’s because they either adore the band, or love music enough to see anyone with a guitar. A large number of people in most crowds know the words to every song, even those that have only been heard as Youtube leaks. A Maccabees show at Matter this February was a cathartically violent experience. The crowd was pressed so tightly, desperate to get closer to the band, that my feet didn’t touch the ground for most of the set. It was fantastic; the collective excitement about the music was stunning. I had a different but equally terrific experience at Camden Crawl, when The Whip won over a diverse crowd that knew relatively little of their music. England’s desire to discover new music sets it apart; Americans tend to be surly toward unknowns, especially openers, but crowds in the U.K. are really listening, even to bands who are just starting out in pub gigs.

American fans, though, seem to be having more fun. Gigs sometimes have a casual, party atmosphere that makes them more a social occasion than a strictly musical experience. I took a friend who knows very little about music to a Rakes gig in London and he noted that “nobody was dancing.” This wasn’t strictly true, but they weren’t dancing with the kind of abandon that you see at American shows. American fans have a great time at concerts, and they love a singalong. I was stunned by the anticipation for the “do-do-do” refrain of Chelsea Dagger at a Fratellis show in Philly this summer. But fans tend to be more casual and less generally interested in music. They’re less likely to know every word to every song, and they’re unsatisfied if bands don’t play hit singles. At the same Fratellis gig, the crowd wouldn’t shut up about Chelsea Dagger until it was played. And they glared at the openers like they were watching puppies get kicked. They enjoyed the music, but only the music they already knew.

If I had to chose the most fundamental difference between gigs in America and Britain it would be this: there’s much more devotion to the culture of live music in the U.K. The proliferation of gigs, the enthusiasm for all live music, and the fervor of fans make the concert atmosphere electric. Sure, you might end up with a few bruises when a rabid Maccabees fan shoves you into the amp, but it’s worth it.