I’ve been writing here from time to time about the Nietzschean duality of Apollinian and the Dionysian, most playfully when doing so about Muppet Theory.
When considering the conceptual difference between Apollinian and Dionysian, I often think of Nietzsche’s example of sculpture vs music. Music and dance are communal, more chaotic and impermanent, while sculpture represents the structure and discipline required to bring a form to shape. As I was writing about the Foo Fighters show we just attended, I wanted to write a bit about my thoughts on the tension between these two forces, and how they might apply to the concert experience
Prior to the show, we walked around Hershey Park and rode some rides. I was thinking how I’m not terribly inclined to seek out live music. It’s not that I don’t enjoy a show (although they do go on a bit long!); I always enjoy live music and know enough about rock guitar to appreciate the music on a few levels.
And I thought that it was a good thing that I was exposing them, however later in their young lives, to the concert experience. And that this was a good introduction to a Dionysian experience.
But then the juxtapositions started to smack me in the face. The parking. The itinerary. The fact that previous set lists mirrored the Hershey show. The legion of trucks that surely carried the bands’ gear to the venue. The hours of prep beforehand in setting up the sound and lights. The venue staffing. The Ticketmaster app always alert and ready to show my tickets within the hour of the show starting. Rational thinking. Form and structure. All Apollinian traits.
A modern rock concert delivers a core Dionysian experience while your icons are on stage, but it relies wholly on Apollinian features to happen. And unlike in Nietzsche’s conception, these forces are not opposing one another, but supporting each other. A planned event with no Dionysus would be a boring affair. But Dionysus without roadies? Nothing would happen.
The closest somewhat-famous example I can think of that is a truly Dionysian experience with concert-going would be the desert parties that made the likes of Kyuss famous.
More than 100 miles away from Los Angeles and the width of a continent from New York, Palm Desert had no outlets for young bands. Kyuss decided to take matters into their own hands. Setting up makeshift stages in the desert outside of town, they would play gigs to ever-growing crowds of friends. Part gig, part alfresco revelry, they became known as ‘generator parties’, due to the electrical generators used to power the band’s amps.
[Kyuss’ Blues For The Red Sun: the cult 90s masterpiece that sparked the stoner rock revolution](1992: How Kyuss sparked a stoner rock revolution | Louder (loudersound.com))
You can plug in Burning Man for rock concert if you like; I think the analysis still holds.