JUNE 30, 2016
As an avid fan of music and being repeatedly kicked in the face, I’ve been in a lot of mosh pits in my time. I’ve bounced, bled and headbanged with the best (and worst) of them. And I’ve noticed that in every mosh pit, without fail, there are certain types of punters who have become walking stereotypes. I see them so often they’re starting to parody themselves. Chances are, you have too. Even more likely, you fit into one or more of these categories. Consider this a public disclaimer that you’re kind of an asshole. In no particular order….
“Okay, everyone let go on 3.”
I have a longstanding personal hatred of crowd surfers. I don’t see why everyone should tolerate some fucking pillock leaping on top of them because they are determined to feel like a rock star for several fractions of a second. IT’S HARD TO ENJOY A SHOW WHEN YOUR VISION IS OBSCURED BY ANOTHER MAN’S TAINT. Don’t get me wrong. Artists can do it. Because we pay to see them. The difference is that an artist stage dives to be caught by his fans, and you are an asshole jumping off a tiny ledge into a sea of annoyed people. We are not your fans. You have no fans. We have to catch you because you have already decided to ruin everybody’s time and we have no fucking choice in the matter. Bonus points if you step on people on the way onto the stage.
Okay, if you insist, I get that it’s part of the experience. If you absolutely have to leap into the sea, remember proper crowd surfing etiquette. Keep your legs pointed up and your feet the fuck away from people’s faces, and land on your back, not your elbow or face. Also, on the way down, make sure you go and fuck yourself.
The Wet Snake
Oh man, this fucking guy. First of all, where is your shirt? No one said it was okay to take your shirt off. This isn’t your personal sauna, bro. Although for some reason, you are profusely sweating like you’re in a sauna, if said sauna was located on the surface of Venus. If you are aware that your sweat glands are like pointed Super Soakers, why would you also subject every poor sap in a three metre radius to them? If you can’t locate this guy by his pale, shapeless torso wobbling like a hairy custard tart, you can find him by following the sharp scent of bad life choices (hint: It’s BO, sweat and cheap beer!)
My personal favourite is when this guy takes a run up and slides through the crowd like a greased up meat pattie down a Slip-N-Slide.
The Dirty Miller
only corporate SELLOUTS use shampoo
Now, this may be a uniquely metal problem, but a lot of fans of certain genres have long ass hair. I used to have long ass hair, for a like 8 freaking years, and will occasionally stare at old photos of myself with a whimsical tear. However, the key difference is that I would, on occasion, wash said hair, so it didn’t smell like the deepest crevasse of Satan’s butthole. You can windmill all you like, but be aware that you are probably flicking your nastyass, lice ridden hair locks in somebody’s face, and that’s not cool, bro. Especially you, thrash metal fan, with your giant manky dreadlocks whipping somebody in the face repeatedly like a cat o’ nine tails dipped in sewerage.
be like actual ninjas and fucking disappear
There is a special place in Hell, down the hall from Hitler and across from AOL messenger, reserved for Ninja Pitters, which by the way is the most retarded fucking name since iSnack 2.0. Nothing says “I am a raging wanker” like swinging all off your appendages with reckless abandon so that people have to consciously create a barrier between themselves and you. No-one wants to enter a gig and immediately have their drink fly kicked to the opposite wall (also. leave your drink at the fucking bar. more at 6pm). It’s like a cross between a tribal dance and having a seizure. Apart from looking like you’re fighting off a swarm of invisible bees, one day you’re going to two step the wrong dude in the face and he’s going to break your kneecaps. And justice for all.
The Budding Alcoholic
I know you just paid $26.90 for your Jack and Coke, but I can assure you that bringing it into the centre of the mosh is a bad idea. It will result in somebody wearing your drink at some point. If I wanted my t-shirt to resemble a Molotov cocktail rag I would’ve just wiped it on the floor. And god forbid the bar staff trusted you with an ACTUAL GLASS… where are you planning on putting it now, dicknipples? Probably also on the floor, where some poor sap will step on it and flail madly in an attempt to not break their neck. Fuck you, finish your drink at the bar.
This guy is a fan. And he’s determined for the band to see he’s a fan. So he spends 5 minutes contorting himself like fucking Voldo, to free his arm from in between the vicelike grip of some other dudes armpit. As soon as it’s free, he will thrust it as hard as he can at the air, and wave it around like an inflatable flailing arm waving tube man. Generally this results in everybody in the vicinity receiving an elbow to the ear. Only in a mosh pit will you get elbowed in the ear. It’s not a pleasant experience. Try it, if you don’t believe me. And remember this will only happen because some shitdick wants to fist pump devil horns like he’s summoning C’thulu.
The Lost and Confused Girl
“shit this isn’t ABBA”
Hey. Hey there. I think you may have accidentally stumbled into the wrong venue. Usually dragged to an event by their boyfriends, this poor lass is trying her best to enjoy herself and will adamantly two-fisted party pump to funeral doom metal. Alternative variants forego trying to enjoy themselves altogether, and instead of watching the band will scream at her friend about the train of dudes she’s going to ride on the weekend.
But who the hell am I to say how you should and shouldn’t dance? By all means, do the sprinkler in a circle of death. However I’m not responsible for what happens to you.
The Bill Cosby
“no I was actually taking a photo of my shoes”
Speaking of proper mosh etiquette, please try and contain yourselves. I know that girl you are unintentionally mashing your junk into from behind is probably the first contact with a female you’ve had in months, but there’s no reason to get all rapey up in here. Yes, there will be girls in a mosh pit (some genres of music excluded. Tech-death usually results in a giant factory of sausage). You do not need to “shield” her tits with your hands, you seedy, seedy man. Bonus points for copping drive-by feels of chicks trying to crowd surf. This is less of a mosh pit issue and more of a social retardation issue. Maybe go beat your dick outside before you come in. You’re like the weird Uncle nobody invited.
“omg i can see everything from up here! except where daddy went.”
This one is mostly unique to festivals, and will prowl unsuspecting males to place her on their shoulders like she is the Queen of Claremont Showgrounds ™. Once perched on her (now very reluctant) throne, she will make loud screeching noises and inevitable flash at least one tit in a vein attempt to make it to the big screen, where the world can see her for what she really is – a fuckwit. Bonus points for when a group of these inconsiderate numpties meet up and decide to collectively block the vision of every single person behind them. When encountered in the wild, the only way to defend yourself against the Queen is safely throwing cans at her head from a distance until the inevitable shoulder collapse of the poor sod who chose to be her mount. Do you see that guy’s face? That is pure, unaltered regret.
For some reason this one is almost guaranteed when the fanbase of a band has a mean age of 30+. We get it bro, you vape. And now everyone else here does, too. I often wonder the downward spiral of addiction that must take place to not be able to attend a show without smoking sixteen billies. No I don’t want your half used roach you dropped on the ranky ass floor. It’s not Woodstock, bro, and you’re not even listening to me, are you? Also, you’re looking at the wrong stage, the band is on-… you know what, forget it. You do you, fam. *exhales*
The Social Media Whore
I dunno about you but I have clans to clash
#perth #perthgigs #gigphotos #giglife #fun #music
These blights on society are so common now you often can’t seen the band due to the everyone’s phone screen shining with the brightness of 1000 suns. Man, I can’t wait for you to show me your tiny pixelated video with clipping audio of the GIG I ALSO ATTENDED. Remember the last time you gathered the family around to watch “Back of Guy In Front Of Me’s Shirt at Big Day Out 2006”? No, neither do I. Also, no amount of event tags are going to make people like you. That’s just because of who you are as a person.
Unless you have that memory condition that dude had in Memento, in which case go buddy! Document it all!
Almost Famous Guy
I’M A VOCALIST TOOOOOOOOOOO
Oh man, this guy is gonna make it one day. He will belt out lyrics at the top of his lungs to the clear disappointment of everyone near him. He’s an aspiring vocalist too, you know, and would JUST LOVE TO SHOW YOU HIS TALENT if only he could just get the mic for a fraction of a second. To do this, he’ll spend the entire show wildly grabbing for it like a cat with a laser pointer. Finally, this cockspangler will actually manage to snatch the mic, and will then refuse to give it back like a poor doggo who is confused by the concept of fetch. This results in a game of tug-of-war with the actual vocalist, who immediately regrets his decision and makes a mental note to stay the hell away from Australian Mosh Idol.
The Search Party
Excuse me sir have you seen my dignity?
EVERYBODY STOP WHAT YOU’RE DOING. EXCUSE ME. YES YOU, OVER THERE, STOP MOVING. I LOST MY PHONE/WALLET/HAIRPIN/CONDOM AND IT IS IMPERATIVE WE FIND IT RIGHT THIS SECOND. Yeah, dude, that sucks, but what the fuck do you expect to happen in the middle of a set? I know, you should go ask the band to take a 5 minute recess so they can switch a light on and find your contact lenses. Maybe next time swallow your valuables so you can’t lose them, you mess of a human being.
Ser Gregor Clegane
FEE FI FO FUM
Yeah, I know this is probably out of your huge, meaty hands. People don’t get to decide on their genetics. But why, every time I go to a show, I am stuck behind some seven foot gargantuan swamplord from the depths of the abyss? I know sitting on planes must suck for you, but please don’t take your bitterness out on the crowd by blocking the view of the entire stage. Be a bro, go stand at the back. Or, I dunno, go harass a small village and kidnap a princess. IT’S NOT LIKE YOU WON’T SEE OVER EVERYBODY ANYWAY YOU GIANT BEHEMOTH
There you have it, my in-depth guide to the Heroes of Moshpit. Some of you may say I’m jaded, angry and a major buzzkill. These people are right, and can form an orderly line to eating my balls, one at a time. The most important tip of all: I’m at least 3 of the listed personalities, so take this article with a grain of salt and a lemon. Mosh pits are an experience like no other, and are there to be enjoyed. If you don’t love them, maybe you can be the one that convinces Amps to offer seated tickets.