Don't be a Woo! Guy

There’s a concert-goer who draws my ire more than the Freebird-yeller guy or the video-the-whole-show girl-—it’s the Woo! guy. He does not bellow Woo! at song’s end, he cries out Woo! mid-tune, repeatedly, and particularly during a song’s more poignant (Woo!) moments. Sometimes the Woo! guy is so distracting that even the performers become aware. Tersely, they glare steely eyes towards Woo! guy, commanding him to STFU, but oblivious Woo! guy adores the attention--I'm noticed!--and another Woo! is elicited.

My modern songwriting idol, Jeff Tweedy of Wilco, is playing tonight at The Pabst Theater. I've seen him many times, so I'm sitting this one out. But that's not the only reason. A Jeff Tweedy solo acoustical show is like a calling to all the Woo! guys within a 98-mile radius. It becomes an absolute flock of Woo! birds. Tweedy, too, may be the only person who dislikes Woo! guys more than me--he is a master of verbally slamming Woo! guys at his shows--but unless he has the power to turn that six-string Martin into a 10-gigawatt laser beam shooter--Tweedy's ability to quiet Woo! guys is mostly vanquished.

If you go, I dare you to take the Woo! guy challenge: every time you hear a Woo! guy, take a sip of your PBR. It doesn't have to be a big one--just enough to wet your tongue. If you can make it down the steps at show's end without assistance, you really should consider entering a beer drinking contest.

Woo.