Dear Rock Music Person:
I like your music. I do. That is why I am at your show. Even if I came to see the band playing before you/ after you/ yesterday (oops), I am here for your set as well, which should indicate that you are talented/ cute/ interesting/ naked enough that I decided to stay (choose all that apply).
Due to circumstances possibly beyond your control, you are starting at least 30 minutes late. If this is Don Hill’s, it may be after midnight and you are probably over 90 minutes late. I might be having a bang-up whizzo time standing around waiting for you to play, but I also might be thinking about other places I could be and other things I could be doing while I sip a drink that would be a better drink if I were elsewhere.
There is nothing you can do at this point to whip us into a frenzy. If we have not provided this frenzy by your second number, then there will be no frenzy this time out. Shouts of “Let Me Hear You New York” and “Make Some Noise Out There” do not make us spontaneously leap about like a whooping hooked fish, nor will come-hither questions like “Do You Like to Rock, New York???” followed by the inevitable “I Can’t Hear You” bait us into shouting “woo” with feeling. Please stop asking. We are too cold or tired or bored, and we are not in the mood.
In future, you might wish to consider one or more of the following:
(1) Start on time.
(2) Don’t suck.
(3) Less time at the tattoo parlor, more time with the music teacher.
(4) NO ENCORES WHEN YOU START LATE.
(5) You call that a song?
Also, please quit referring to us as “New York” when you’re also from here. It’s just embarrassing. This ain’t Madison Square Garden.