Jamie Antonisse

The audience reaction to this was... mixed. There was some clapping, some boos, and some scattered shouts that seemed to signify nothing.

The singer persisted. He retrenched and put forward a more subtle position.

"It's so wonderfully bad, its destined to be remembered. People don't see it now, but in ten years, it's going to be a massive cult classic."

There was a pause as the audience, myself included, absorbed this information about a movie we hadn't seen. The singer stroked his Magnum moustache, satisfied, and for a second it looked like the band would play on.

But then, from the audience, came a single baritone voice, a clarion call, like a slightly drunk but still angelic trumpet.

"I disagree!!!"

That anonymous voice, speaking entirely out of turn, won us over instantly. The singer smiled sheepishly as we laughed. The tone of the concert was slightly different after that. The band relaxed, a saxophonist came out to accompany the twin guitars, and between every song, the singer simply looked at his fellow bandmates and shouted enthusiastically "Let's do another one!" before mashing his strings once again.

The stupidity of crowds is frequently shocking to me, but not as shocking as it should be. Why did I find it so funny, so notable, that a voice from the masses said the one sensible thing when faced with the postulate that The Happening's (alleged and preview-probable) mediocrity is a high-order achievement, and something worth crowing about?

Because I've stood shoulder to shoulder facing a fair number of stages in my day. Enough, at least, to know that any rational voice of dissent from a captive audience, be they physicists, farmers, parking lot attendants or corporate strategists, is utterly unexpected.

But apparently, not impossible. On the odd Sunday night at the Roxy Theater, reason (or its drunken approximation) does sometimes prevail. It's my pleasure to report it when it happens.