IAF - Intensely Annoying Fans
IAF - Intensely Annoying Fans
I found this amusing article in a Brit paper.....
Spare us the shameless devotion of the Intensely Annoying Fans
Sean O'Hagan
Sunday June 1, 2003
The Observer
I have seen two rock legends play live in the past month. Both Neil Young and Patti Smith have been around long enough to inspire utter devotion in their followers.
Take Patti Smith's audience, many of whom had travelled from far and wide to see her perform songs and poetry at Charleston House, where the Bloomsbury set once did the same - though I doubt they'd have approved of Patti's raucous 'Piss Factory'. A fine experiment, then, and one that, in this intimate setting, worked wondrously. For the most part.
The problem was the drooling faithful, whose love of Patti, it seems, had to be shared, loudly and embarrassingly, at every opportunity. Behind me sat an American lady whose contribution to the evening was an initially irritating, then immensely annoying, cry of 'We love you, Patti!', delivered in the voice of a deranged six-year-old. Not just between songs, either.
Miss Deranged America was outdone, though, by Mister Beyond Embarrassment, a middle-aged guy, sitting stage front, who decided to answer Smith's announcements as if he, and he alone, had a special relationship with her. Example: Smith: 'It really is a great honour to be here.' MBE: 'We're even more honoured Patti, come back anytime.' Smith had the grace to smile gamely, but you could see that, like the rest of us, she was wincing with embarrassment. Or maybe she recognised his voice, and was thinking, 'Oh no! It's that guy who was sitting in the front row in Denver. And Brussels. And Dublin.'
Performers have an antennae for this sort of thing; they know the most fawning are often the most devouring. Ask John Lennon.
This was probably the same guy who clapped loudly at the beginning of every song. One chord was all it took. I mean, no one can detect a song, particularly one rearranged for acoustic performance by someone as unpredictable as Patti Smith, on the strength of one chord. Can they? He even clapped Smith's accompanist retuning his guitar.
What is it with people who clap at the start of a song anyway? It struck me, during the surreal set of old favourites that Neil Young played at the end of his interminable 'concept' show at the Hammersmith Apollo, that the reason he tootles around on acoustic guitar for so long before singing is in the vain hope that the clappers will not come in five minutes into a song. It kind of worked. But, alas, it didn't deter the shouters; it encouraged them. I used to think there was no bore like a Bruce bore, but I am revising my opinion.
The guys behind me had been to six shows on the current tour, so they must have absorbed the fact that Neil is a legendarily moody performer, who doesn't suffer fools gladly. Why, then, get pissed up on lager before an acoustic Neil Young show and then run back and forth to the lavatory 10 times? Why shout endless requests for old songs that he may do on a whim but certainly won't if you keep howling the titles at him? His silence throughout was withering, but that didn't stop the requests, nor the inanities. The best bit was when someone shouted, 'When are you coming back, Neil?' He cocked a bushy eyebrow like some backwoods Eeyore. 'I'm still here,' he scowled, 'I ain't left yet.'
Therein lies the rub. For the Neil and Patti bores, fandom is onanistic and insatiable. A concert simply provides the context wherein the eternally adolescent fan, having shed the adolescent's fear of embarrassment, can now show off their trainspotty knowledge and parade their pointless fandom for everyone else to see.
When they shout out a request, or applaud the first chords of a song, they are shouting for themselves, and clapping themselves, oblivious to the fact that this is disrespectful to the performer, and intensely annoying to the rest of us. The Intensely Annoying Fan is not going away, but I live in hope that they will one day wise up. And, more to the point, shut up.
Spare us the shameless devotion of the Intensely Annoying Fans
Sean O'Hagan
Sunday June 1, 2003
The Observer
I have seen two rock legends play live in the past month. Both Neil Young and Patti Smith have been around long enough to inspire utter devotion in their followers.
Take Patti Smith's audience, many of whom had travelled from far and wide to see her perform songs and poetry at Charleston House, where the Bloomsbury set once did the same - though I doubt they'd have approved of Patti's raucous 'Piss Factory'. A fine experiment, then, and one that, in this intimate setting, worked wondrously. For the most part.
The problem was the drooling faithful, whose love of Patti, it seems, had to be shared, loudly and embarrassingly, at every opportunity. Behind me sat an American lady whose contribution to the evening was an initially irritating, then immensely annoying, cry of 'We love you, Patti!', delivered in the voice of a deranged six-year-old. Not just between songs, either.
Miss Deranged America was outdone, though, by Mister Beyond Embarrassment, a middle-aged guy, sitting stage front, who decided to answer Smith's announcements as if he, and he alone, had a special relationship with her. Example: Smith: 'It really is a great honour to be here.' MBE: 'We're even more honoured Patti, come back anytime.' Smith had the grace to smile gamely, but you could see that, like the rest of us, she was wincing with embarrassment. Or maybe she recognised his voice, and was thinking, 'Oh no! It's that guy who was sitting in the front row in Denver. And Brussels. And Dublin.'
Performers have an antennae for this sort of thing; they know the most fawning are often the most devouring. Ask John Lennon.
This was probably the same guy who clapped loudly at the beginning of every song. One chord was all it took. I mean, no one can detect a song, particularly one rearranged for acoustic performance by someone as unpredictable as Patti Smith, on the strength of one chord. Can they? He even clapped Smith's accompanist retuning his guitar.
What is it with people who clap at the start of a song anyway? It struck me, during the surreal set of old favourites that Neil Young played at the end of his interminable 'concept' show at the Hammersmith Apollo, that the reason he tootles around on acoustic guitar for so long before singing is in the vain hope that the clappers will not come in five minutes into a song. It kind of worked. But, alas, it didn't deter the shouters; it encouraged them. I used to think there was no bore like a Bruce bore, but I am revising my opinion.
The guys behind me had been to six shows on the current tour, so they must have absorbed the fact that Neil is a legendarily moody performer, who doesn't suffer fools gladly. Why, then, get pissed up on lager before an acoustic Neil Young show and then run back and forth to the lavatory 10 times? Why shout endless requests for old songs that he may do on a whim but certainly won't if you keep howling the titles at him? His silence throughout was withering, but that didn't stop the requests, nor the inanities. The best bit was when someone shouted, 'When are you coming back, Neil?' He cocked a bushy eyebrow like some backwoods Eeyore. 'I'm still here,' he scowled, 'I ain't left yet.'
Therein lies the rub. For the Neil and Patti bores, fandom is onanistic and insatiable. A concert simply provides the context wherein the eternally adolescent fan, having shed the adolescent's fear of embarrassment, can now show off their trainspotty knowledge and parade their pointless fandom for everyone else to see.
When they shout out a request, or applaud the first chords of a song, they are shouting for themselves, and clapping themselves, oblivious to the fact that this is disrespectful to the performer, and intensely annoying to the rest of us. The Intensely Annoying Fan is not going away, but I live in hope that they will one day wise up. And, more to the point, shut up.
- Byron
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Kush, I'm with you in this one. I heard a tale which may be true about Bob Dylan. Some years ago when he was in the middle of a show, in the middle of a tour, in the middle of no-where, he played 2 chords as if starting his next tune. Several members of the audience immediately started to clap and whistle their appreciation for this next tune.
Bob, stopped playing. (his band had not started) He left the 2 chords floating in the air. He looked up at the audience and in a very tired voice said something like, "What the **** are you stupid ****** clapping for, I threw these chords in just to see how many ****** are in tonight. And now we all know"
Bob, stopped playing. (his band had not started) He left the 2 chords floating in the air. He looked up at the audience and in a very tired voice said something like, "What the **** are you stupid ****** clapping for, I threw these chords in just to see how many ****** are in tonight. And now we all know"

"Bipolar is a roller-coaster ride without a seat belt. One day you're flying with the fireworks; for the next month you're being scraped off the trolley" I said that.
Us Brits seemed to have picked up the habit of whooping and flinging our arms about. I blame the imported shows such as "Oprah" and "Jerry Springer". I also blame "Neigbours" and "Home and Away" for the way the English way of speaking had changed so now all the young ones who watch these programmes now talk to you as if they are asking a question. There is heavy intontation at the end of a sentence and the voice rises.
OK I can't really blame the USA and Austrailia for it but it is bloody annoying.
I liked the bit in the article about "trainspotters" it should have been "anoraks".
OK I can't really blame the USA and Austrailia for it but it is bloody annoying.
I liked the bit in the article about "trainspotters" it should have been "anoraks".
On one old bootleg, I don't remember exactly which one but from the 1970s, Leonard also stoped after few first chords and said "Why are you clapping, all my songs have the same beginning, you cannot known which one it is." Something like that. 

Leonard Cohen Newswire / bookoflonging.com (retired) / leonardcohencroatia.com (retired)
On Leonard's Bird On A Wire tape, his reaction to mindless clapping, whooping, hollering, and as Margaret added, shrieking, is made classic, through his many attempts and final action. Would people feel the same about these songs, had they initially and always come off their record players with this presentation?
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IAF
The avalanche of adoration can bury the artist a pile of steaming---.
This individual and mob behaviour is reminiscent of lines in LC's classic song.
you must learn what makes me kind,
This individual and mob behaviour is reminiscent of lines in LC's classic song.
I stepped into an avalanche, it covered up my soul.
He does not ask for your company not at the center, the center of the world.
When I am on a pedestal you did not raise me there.
Your laws do not compel me to kneel grotesque and bare.
The crumbs of love that you offer me they're the crumbs I've left behind.
And don't love me quite so fiercely now when you know that you are not sure.
you must learn what makes me kind,
Aavalanche