<-- Read about Ed Sheeran
The Lights went dim and the sound of a train began to play
over the speakers. It was a deafening
sound and was timed to ratchet up the noise to a high crescendo the moment
Train entered stage right. The crowd did
as they were told and ramped up their noise until we were in a deep throated
cheer when Train burst in the door. My
wife began to go hoarse. She would have no
voice left after Trains half-dozen song set, singing every word (and guitar
note) at the top of her lungs and wanting with every bone of her body to jump
onto the stage and kiss Pat Monahan.
Pat Monahan is not a singer.
Sure, he can sing, but he doesn’t care about that. He doesn’t even care about the fans, that is,
unless they buy tickets to his next concert.
Pat is a master marketer and proved it with everything he did while on stage.
I watched his face and mannerisms carefully. He hit every note perfectly and yet was
completely bored out of his mind. It
appeared that he didn’t want to be there.
But the fans didn’t notice.
They were too busy catching t-shirts that Pat threw out to
them. They were too busy watching Train
take off his own shirt, sign it, and throw it out to a section of the
crowd. They were too busy being told to
take pictures of him and post them to Twitter.
Train debuted his new and horrid song “Mermaids” by adding a
little extra marketing pizzazz. He
called up a few dozen girls (and one boy) onto the stage and sang the song
while high stepping around the group of fans, grabbing their phones, and taking
group pictures with them. Train knew
they would immediately post them to social media and tickets would begin to
move for his next show in Milwaukee, WI.
More shirts flew off the stage as Train sang through all of
his modern popular songs, including his older “Drops of Jupiter”. The crowd ate up “50 Ways to Say Goodbye”, “Drive
By”, lost it when he sang “Hey, Soul Sister”, singing every word, among other
songs. He disappointed many in the
crowd, including my wife, by not singing one of his best ballads, “Marry Me”,
where he shows off his vocal talents.
But it made sense. He wasn’t
there to spin his singing. He was there
to whet the interest of every fan to get them to the next concert.
He succeeded. The
minute Pat finished his set, Kristine, my wife, turned to me and said, “I’m
buying tickets to Milwaukee”. Train was
to perform in three days in that town.
In short, Train didn’t care for a single fan in the arena,
and everyone ate it up, thinking he loved them and was there for them.
He is a master salesman. I was
thoroughly impressed.
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