PLANO, Texas — An incredible meeting of souls occurred last night as Christian punk band The Chastity Pistols and their audience forged a bond over their desperate need for the performance to end, confirmed sources who had better things to do.
“It was the kind of thing you think only happens to other people,” said showgoer Shenade Moore. “We were just like totally simpatico. The lack of energy in the room was incredible. We all felt it. Too often it can feel like there’s an impenetrable wall stopping us from connecting—really connecting—with the people around us, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth last night. It was impossible to tell where my indifference ended and the band’s began. All I know is we got 45 minutes of our time back to do what we wanted. I, for instance, went to Taco Bell. Perfect way to enhance an already beautiful evening.”
Band drummer Axe Blurn couldn’t agree more.
“So often you find yourself on a totally different wavelength from the audience and it sucks, but last night we felt each other completely. It was a really moving experience,” he said, wiping away a tear. “The opening few songs were total duds, I was tired, Dave the frontman was tired, the bassist, I forget his name, was tired, the crowd was tired. Hell, not even the rats in the bathroom were out in the open. No one was feeling it, and that was ok. In fact, it was transcendent. It was a great moment when Dave said we have one more song and everyone cheered.”
Part-time music scholar and full-time bouncer Clay Smith attributed this moment of synergy, akin to Radiohead at Glastonbury 1997 or Talking Heads’ performance for “Stop Making Sense,” to the openness of all present to feel bad at gigs as well as good.
“At the end of the day we go to concerts to unite,” said Smith. “Sometimes the spark for that is a great performance or a solo that expresses something that we never could with words. And sometimes it’s a shared sense of the night having run its course. Whatever form it takes, it’s a sacred and beautiful thing. There’s nothing more uplifting than hearing a crowd chant ‘no more songs’ after you end your set on an otherwise mediocre night.”
At press time, all involved had further bonded over a desire to never see each other again.