Some music matures its fans. Let me explain. . .

At Casa Nueva in Athens OH last Thursday, some asshole got tossed out of the show for tossing beer cans at the band. This is never cool. At least I can't come up with a scenario in which this would be cool, unless of course some artist said "THROW BEER ON ME!" then, sure! It'd only be right.

Hell, when I was a kid I watched beer get thrown on a professional wrestler and even then THAT seemed wrong to me.

The band in Athens was the The Avett Brothers and the asshole was at least 6'6'', both staggeringly tall and staggeringly drunk.

He and his friends were singing along but they seemed more interested in boasting their drink intake to the band. When Seth Avett took a guitar solo, stepping slightly toward the front of the stage where these goofs were stagnant, they would hold their PBR cans as close to him as possible, scream as loud as they could something that came out as "whoooo" but really meant
"Seth, aren't you proud of how drunk AND rowdy I can get at your shows? Aren't I the #1 Avett Brothers fan?"

Seth and Scott are nice enough to brush it off. I'm sure a ton of their earliest shows could be considered booze induced mob scenes; a bunch of friends getting rowdy on the outside and probably feeling deep on the inside that they were on to something bigger than what it seemed at the time.

And the Avetts sing rowdy drunken songs that are inherently country. They sing about leaving beer bottles in the branches of a magnolia tree and hanging out on the roof until the sun rises. If you're from the country you've done that, and you probably dig the Avetts because they take you there with their music.

But it's not their poetic genius that yanks people onto the Avett bandwagon. It's the rowdy, unhinged aspects of the live show. Once they're aboard THEN they buy the CDs and hopefully read along to some of the songs and find that even the most raucous song might have a hint of that trade-markedly hillbilly-Shakespeare.

(I've grown too aware of my mortality/ to let go /and forget about dying/ long enough to drop the hammer down/ and let the indolence go wild and flying through . . .)

Their lyrics, like their vocal proficiency, have matured. They're poetic. You can read the lyrics to a song like "Left On Laura, Left On Lisa" before even hearing the song and know you're going to love the track.

Not everyone digs the Avett brothers like that, and believe me, not ALL of their songs are sappy, introspective folk numbers. And don't get me wrong. I love the drunken rowdy aspect of the Avett brothers appeal as much as the bearded dude dressed in flannel next to me. Thats the beauty of it. Cigarette smokers and clove smokers and snuff dippers all get hip to the Avetts.

This particular show in Athens started in a very subtle fashion, with "The Lowering (A Sad Day In Greenville Town)," one of the most romantically killer songs on the new record. I get the impression that they did it for a sound-check song because its quiet and Bob plays his pretty bowed bass part.

But it could also be interpreted as a reaction to expectation.

It seems like the natural process of any true artist who is celebrated for a peculiar allure; When everyone expects to see that peculiarity the artist refuses to stick to what is safe. They do something else. This is why Dave Chapelle put on a hip-hop concert and why you'll never, ever hear the words "I'm Rick James, BITCH!" leave his lips again.

But the guy who got yanked out of the bar hadn't even shown up yet.
It was during another remarkably poetic number, "The Famous Flower of Manhattan," that all hell broke loose.

This jerk-a-tron had already tossed one compacted PBR can in the general direction of Seth's high-hat cymbals. Of course he missed. Thats why he had to try it again during 'the famous flower,' which Scott had decided to do on acoustic guitar by himself, but it has bass, guitar and backing vocals on the CD.
Scott, justifiably unappreciative of someone chucking beer cans at his musical instruments, foiled the second attempt at voluntary audience percussion contribution by slapping the beer can away and promptly pointing to the sasquatch that threw it. Like an attack dog, road-manager Dane Honeycutt pulls the guy down and out the door, despite the valiant effort of Tally McDrunked to get free (like they'd let him stick around).

I f-ing hate it when a song has to be started over. This time though, Seth and Bob Crawford joined in and they all delivered the piece as if their lives depended on it.

Now, I don't know to what depths the cheeky insinuations of the next piece run with the Avetts themselves, but I felt the energy and the effort go up a notch when they ripped into "I Killed Sallys Lover," a piece I don't think had made the set-list originally.

The show had different electricity to it after that, for me at least. The guys didn't like being disrespected and they stepped up and reminded us why they deserve some respect-Their fucking incredible songs.

The Avett brothers arent interested in how much you can drink.

Buy a ticket, have a good time, get drunk, sing along, whoop and holler, stomp yer feet if you want. But they arent going to pat you on the back and say "Gee, you're the drunkest idiot here. You MUST be our biggest fan, I mean look at this pile of PBR cans!" then graciously invite you on stage to sing back-up vocals and take you on tour with them.

So let this become the first rule in the Dr. Sickness "Tastefully Enjoying a Show" handbook: No matter whose show youre at, DON'T THROW BEER CANS AT THE BAND. This will generally improve the amount of enjoyment for everyone in attendance.