Yeah, so these posts are why most people come here. For some reason people enjoy basking in the second-hand awkwardness that my day to day life seems to revolve around. I mean, I kind of enjoy it too because I’ve now accepted the fact that this is my life and I can have a bit of a laugh at how skittish I feel around literally everyone around me. This encounter took place at a recent live gig in Sydney’s Factory Theatre. The band: Holy Holy. They’re tops, by the way, if you’ve not yet heard of them. Anyway, here’s the story…
Recently, some friends and I trekked into Marrickville to see Holy Holy. They’re a fantastic Aussie band who are doing quite well for themselves. You love to see it. Anyway, the entire show was fucking spectacular, as all Holy Holy gigs are, well, the two that I’ve been to have been, anyway.
Shitty iPhone quality photography inbound…
So, they play this amazing show and the last note of the last song rings out. The time comes to leave and I figured I’d pick up a shirt from the merch stand as I don’t have any Holy Holy gear and they certainly deserve to be worn as a t-shirt. Wait, no. That came out wrong. The band, as human beings, should not be worn as a t-shirt. That’s insanely creepy and definitely illegal. Their t-shirts deserve to be worn. There we go. We got there in the end.
So, I’m waiting in line just in front of a friend who had already bought merch but had heard that the band would be coming out to sign stuff after the show. So, he’d lined up early to try and get ahead of other hopefuls. The plan was that I’d wait in front of him in the line so that if the band hadn’t come out by the time we reached the head of the line, I could stall at the counter until they came out and he could get first dibs on signing. Spoiler: that plan didn’t work out. They formed a separate line for signings literally when the line hit the person in front of me. Soz Gaz. We almost did it.
What this meant though, was that, as I hit the very front of the queue, the band members had appeared and were kind of hanging around the counter waiting for the signing queue to sort itself out and for someone to bring enough signing implements (aka pens) and what not, so they could do the thing.
I ended up situated directly next to the lead guy as he waited patiently to sign shit. Cool. Great. Now, this is where things got tricky. Me, an introverted, awkward fuck was trying to figure out whether I needed to say anything to this guy who’d just put on a fucking awesome show and what in the seven hells do I say? Like, congrats? Good job? I don’t know how to interact with regular non-famous people, let alone the lead singer of one of the coolest bands to come out of Australia in the past 10 years. Fuck. My Life. How is it that my brain manages to turn any good thing that happens to me into a whirlwind of anxiety? Anyway, here’s how it went down. It may not sound super awkward to anyone else but at that point in time I was fighting my way through my own personal hell.
We both stood for a little while. Me: awkward and anxious. Him: chill as fuck.
I glanced over as he glanced over and caught his eye completely by accident. Now, we’d acknowledged each other’s presence. Shit. I have to say something. I have to say how great the show was. Don’t I? Ok, we’re doing this? Yep.
Conversation ensued. Help.
Me: Really great show.
Him: Thanks, you enjoyed it?
Me: Yeah, it was amazing.
Him: Great, so the sound was good?
Me (obviously not a sound expert): Well, I’m no sound expert ~what even is a sound expert, Jesus Christ~ but from what I could tell it was perfect.
Him: Cool, so you heard what you wanted to hear?
Me: Yeah, really loved it. *thumbs up*
And then we both smiled politely and proceeded to silently end the conversation on a mutual understanding that we had nothing more to speak about. This guy gets it. I guess he felt the awkwardness radiating from my very pores so he knew it was time to put me out of my misery. Not the misery of talking to him. He was unbelievably lovely. Just the misery of having to make conversational small talk with a complete stranger. Thanks, my dude.
Aside from the crushing awkwardness I feel that I bring to every conversation, overall I think this specific encounter went relatively well. I just wish my entire brain wouldn’t malfunction and signal the red alert every time I come even a little bit close to engaging in a social encounter. Surely I’m not the only one who feels this? Right?
I feel like anyone, literally ANYONE would’ve been more equipped to do this thing. To have a SIMPLE conversation. It’s not even the fact that he was famous. My brain just shuts down whenever I’m in a social situation I’m not prepared for. Ugh.
“I’m no sound expert.” What in the name of all things HOLY (can still pun tho) was that? How does a sentence like that even formulate in my mind? And which part of my brain then says, “Fuck yeah. Perfect response, boys. Send it out. Pack it up. Our work here is done. Let’s get on the beers.”
Anyway, I apologise to Holy Holy in it’s entirety for subjecting your lead guy to that entirely subpar conversation.
Again, if you’re reading this and you haven’t heard of or listened to Holy Holy at all, please go and check out their stuff. They’re a truly talented Aussie band who GO OFF at live shows. They’ve got some absolute bangers in their repertoire. Here are a few of my faves that you can easily access via YouTube and other streaming services…
You Cannot Call For Love Like A Dog
Teach Me About Dying
Maybe You Know
Seriously, give them a listen.