stories

This isn’t really a complain-o-blog place, I know, but it’s come to my attention that I’m going to be missing a lot of good music this summer.  I was too slow off the mark to get myself a Glastonbury ticket (meaning I logged on to the website at 00:02 rather than making my first attempt twenty minutes before they actually went on sale – seriously, acquiring Glasto tickets is an adventure in its own right) and too skint to get a Leeds pass before they sell out, which amounts to the two big rock festivals down the tubes. I might be able to swing an O2 ticket but it’s hardly premier-league stuff; the atmosphere’s worse even than the notoriously commercial hellishness of Leeds, and I ain’t of any temper to spend £40 per day to see four good bands total.

This is a game I started playing about four years ago to help decide whether Leeds was worth going to anymore. Lineups have got increasingly awful (well, more likely my tastes have got better, but never mind) and ticket prices have skyrocketed, so since 2003 I’ve habitually divided the number of worthwhile acts on the lineup by the cost of a ticket, plus food, beer, camping, beer and sundries. I count five bands I’d go out of my way to see this year (LCD Soundsystem, CSS, Gogol Bordello – who I’ve seen before – Eagles of Death Metal and Biffy Clyro), and three-days passes are £145, plus booking fee, plus beer money etc. It does not add up to an inviting prospect.

But then I remember how much fun I’ve had at past festivals, and how there’s always something fun to look at or do when there aren’t any good bands on, and I chide myself for being so…well, so old, really, to divide something like that down into how much bang I’m getting for my buck. It’s not as if I give a shit about Glastonbury’s lineup, which, as is tradition, isn’t even announced for another few days yet, as will likely have a comparable amount of audio dogshit to Leeds’ dismal main stage. I had a real good conclusion in mind when I started this post, I swear, but all I got now is “I miss going to festivals, and am going to miss all the good ones this year. Again.”

There have been rumors that I had quit the blog before I even began. Pshaw, I say; I ain’t no quitter! With that out of the way, here is where things get heavy: I’m an addict. I don’t use daily; just Tuesday, Wednesday, and sometimes Thursday evenings. I spend the next morning thinking about the prior evening, playing it out in my head over and over. I talk about it with friends, read websites & blogs dedicated to it, and even am a member of a group as addicted as I am.

At this point you must be wondering what horribly sinful substance has me so deeply under her dark spell. I’m here to admit for the first time, that I am addicted to…..Idol.

 Yes, that lame Fox television show rules my life for the some 2-odd hours it airs each week. I’m involved in a “pool” at my office, a “Fantasy Idol” of sorts. Each week we wager points on who is getting the boot, with the big winner at the end winning hundreds of dollars. I’m an out & proud Kelly Clarkson fan, and won’t deny it to anyone who asks.

I take comfort in knowing that I’m not alone in my struggle. Recent figures say that nearly 30 million Americans are affected with Idolitis, though it’s a fairly safe bet that most of them are midwestern (Sorry Rach, you know I love ya!) soccer moms, middle-school aged ‘tweens, and scary men whose favorite shows are Idol & Dateline: To Catch A Predator. Either way, I have taken the first step and it feels freeing. My name is Joshua, and I’m addicted to Idol.