The not-so-advance ticket buyer.

Second in the series of gross over-simplifications:

The nature of advance tickets would seem to be an easily unravelled system. There is an event planned, a performance of some sort. When the event is 3-4 weeks away the organizers drop off advance tickets at outlets which are then advertised as advance ticket vendors. The price of the advance tickets is generally lower than what will eventually charged at the door the night of the event. This allows cash to be generated ahead of time to help pay for initial expenses and/or heighten anticipation or "buzz" surrounding the show.

From a ticket buying standpoint advance tickets allow the most ardent fans to score prime spots (if seating is assigned) or at least guarantee admittance (if there is a fire code capacity for the venue). Theoretically these fans will be the first to buy advance tickets. For example, in the case of a recent show an eager fan tracked down my e-mail and solicited advance tickets (he was from outside Fredericton) a couple of weeks before either the venue or organizers had even announced the show (he had seen tour dates on a myspace page).

Now, buying an advance ticket a few weeks before an event does have an implicit barb: commitment. The buyer has essentially decided well in advance what they will be doing on a certain evening weeks down the road. This seems to give a fair number of people both the heebies and the jeebies.

So, instead, the not-so-advance ticket buyer waits. They play telephone roulette: call a week and a half before the show and ask, "do you still have tickets? Very many? Are they going fast?" Call a week before. Call three days before. Call that morning. Finally when no better offer has come along; when they're secure in finding two other friends to go with them (people who care even less about the event, but have nothing else to do on a Friday). Then around 2 or 3 p.m. on the day of the show they rush down and demand their tickets. Problem is, three dozen other people have preceded them in the last half hour and the advance tickets are sold out. Or perhaps they've waited until 5 minutes before closing (usually about 3 hours before showtime) and the organizers have picked the advance tickets up... leaving them to have to line up at the door and pay the extra amount for admission.

Most of these late-comers are fairly "aw shucks" about the whole thing. Some have that small, hurt animal look that comes from careful plans shot to bits by cold reality. Some special few get angry. Most of these have the same handful of accusations loaded up:

"You said you still had tickets left when I called!"

This of course was four days ago. These people live in a world of strange absolutes where things never change, decay, vanish. These people have never had pets or grandparents. It must come as a sorrowful shock to them each time they finish a sandwich and discover that there is "no more sandwich? But? But? You said!"

Another confused brand of not-so-advance ticket buyer will call ahead a few hours before coming down. I generally try to defuse the possible immense letdown by warning them that someone may be by to pick up the tickets in the very near future. These wily philosophers have that base covered of course:

NSATB: Can you put two tickets aside for me, then?

ME: If they come by to pick them up they'll want the cash for those two tickets as well.

NSATB: Well, you could pay for them and I'll pay you back.

ME [Although my first instinct is to say, "But I don't know you, why would I buy a ticket for you?" Instead]: What if you change your mind and don't come in for them before we close?

NSATB: Well, you could sell them to someone else.

ME: What if I do that and then you show up a minute later?

NSATB: ...well... I'm pretty sure I'll make it down.

ME: Why don't you just buy them at the door?

NSATB: Aren't they more if they're not advance tickets?

And so the great advance ticket play comes full circle.

So next time you're at a show... one you bought tickets for online from a fan club, or you lined up at 8 am in four degree weather... and there's a small group of people clustered near the stage... you know, the ones who are facing the back of the room, craning their necks to see who else is in the bar; talking loud during the quiet parts then hooting enthusiastically calling out requests for songs not written by the performer. You'll know who these people are:

NOT-SO-ADVANCE TICKET BUYERS.

Thanks.

The Bashful Special Orderer

This is the first in a series of character sketches to entertain, inform and possibly pre-empt certain mildly sociopathic behaviours in the pool of retail music afficionados.

THE BASHFUL SPECIAL ORDERER

This shy creature usually first makes contact via telephone. Thusly:


BSO: Do you carry any _______ in your store?

ME: We don't have any at the moment. If you have a specific title in mind we could special order it for you.

BSO: ...Uh, no. That's OK.


This first step is common to all of their kind. Theoretically what they are doing is checking to see if any store has it in stock so that they might purchase it immediately... a reasonable and logical approach. When it fails (which is usually does since what they are after has little chance of being regularly stocked anywhere) they move on to the next step.

If logic were still the guiding light, what should happen next is calling back the place that said they'd get it for you fairly quickly and inquiring about the order process. Instead, the BSO does this:


BSO: Do you have any _______ in stock?

ME: Errr.... not at the moment. We seldom ever see that second hand, but we could certainly get that for you if you'd like.

BSO: ...Uh, no. That's OK.


Step three comes in a few different variations upon a similar theme: Some repeat step two several times until I'm tempted to *69 them, find them and punch them in the ear. Some give up straight away. The bravest of the BSOs actually leave their fortress of solitude and come in to the store. They will appear jumpy, flipping through both new and used of only one particular letter. When you ask if they are looking for anything special they will either accidentally "out" themselves by asking for the same semi-obscure artist/album... or they will mumble nothing discernable and shuffle out before any further confrontation arise. Either way... even in person they will never agree to actually order the album they so obviously want.

You may ask yourselves, "so why not just get the title in so that next time they ask you'll be ready with it?" Ah, friends. Therein lies the strange alchemy of the quasi-forbidden desire. At the very point where the album soooo sought after is finally in stock... that is when the BSO will either completely vanish into another dimensional reality or claim they found it while on vacation in Burundi with their cousins. Then you will find yourself with an albatross of an album that has no other hope of being sold.

So it is the dance finds it's own balance: Ask and receive, but only inquire and you shall remain bereft.

Thank you.

BACK TO BACK CATALOGUE #1

{From 2002}: Ugly Casanova – Sharpen Your Teeth (Sub Pop)

Isaac Brock of Modest Mouse was hired by the Sub Pop label to seek and sign artists he thought showed merit. His taste has turned out to be pretty good, bringing Wolf Parade onboard. Around the same time, after releasing The Moon and Antarctica on a major label, Brock trawled the Sub Pop bullpen and assembled an allstar/no-star roster to record an album under the UC alter-ego. From Holopaw he grabbed John Orth who provides lyrics and vocals to a few tracks. From Red Red Meat/Califone he snatched Tim Rutili for guitars/lyrics/vocals and Brian Deck for drums/percussion and co-producing. Rounding things out on a couple of tracks is Three Mile Pilot/Black Heart Procession’s Pall Jenkins providing vocals/guitars/keyboards. Two things are interesting about the album: one is that you can hear elements from all the individual bands in the overall mix… therefore not just a mouse jr. album. Secondly is how much the sound fed into Good News for People Who Love Bad News, Brock’s most recent Modest Mouse release. It’s got all the abstract minimalist swagger that you’d expect, but Orth’s vocals have a yang effect on Brock’s yin, balancing things out. Deck and Rutili long ago perfected the sound of a machine programmed to play 70s Rolling Stones that’s started to fall apart in interesting ways. The alchemy just simmers throughout, brewing up gold and IPA out of whatever base metals were on hand.

A couple of streaming audio samples can be found here.