I guess we all take notice of our advancing ages in different ways. Some may lament the increasing grey hairs and wrinkles, while others might notice a sudden appearance of junk mail from AARP. Me, I notice that I’m often one of the oldest people at a concert.

Granted, this varies wildly depending on which concert it is. For obvious reasons, older bands provide me with more cover, while the newer trendier acts leave me more exposed. At last month’s Devo concert, it felt like my 44 years put me somewhere right in the middle, whereas when we went to see Interpol last year, I had to scan long and hard before I spotted someone who was likely older than me. But I did in fact spot him, saving me from officially being the oldest guy in attendance.

Well, I do believe I finally hit that milestone. During a road trip down to San Francisco, we caught Art Brut at a small venue in Eugene, Oregon. The audience was composed of about 300 college kids… and us. Except for one guy who we later determined to be the janitor, we were by far the oldest in the place, being at least twice as old as everyone else there. At one point I told Carol that if we played it real cool, all the kids might think we were record company execs. I’m not sure that ruse worked, as none of them asked us to give them free stuff.

Even though it’s a bit odd to notice, I can’t say that it really bothers me to be the elder at a good rock show. If for no other reason, it’s good to see the kids out enjoying some real music, rather than twirling around listening to techno.

(BTW — this means I had to update the Concert List page.)