Sometimes it's the bassist or the horn player but most of the time I fixate on the cutest one with the most sweat beads decorating his brow. The one with the witty comments and the sly smile. The one with style, confidence and spontaneity, the one that's French kissing the microphone and seducing the amps. Yup, there's a definite sexuality in most rock 'n' roll and that's why it's attractive and often illicit. There's an accepted exchange upon entry into any performance facility that I am entering the land of pretend, the delicate land where bills are peripheral and the realities of tangible relationships are useless.
Concerts are an arena for personal exchange with impersonal implications.
The band bears its soul and, in exchange for 10 bucks, the audience watches. I go to watch and daydream and fantasize while someone else is performing. I go to listen and sometimes pretend that they looked at me or were sending some major chord my direction. There is an inherent sexuality that goes along with being a rock star and watching a rock star perform. And it's the audience's responsibility to play into that submissive gaze.