Stop the “˜freebird’ squawking, let band play

If you’ve ever been to a rock concert then chances are
you’ve heard it at some point.

“FREEBIRD!”

Just this weekend I was at a show during which I witnessed three
instances of this classic concert gibe. Yet surprisingly, few of
the fans who, show after show, offer up this archetypal concert
witticism are aware of its long and storied history. People should
be aware of and sensitive to the actual merit of what they’re
bothering band members’ and fellow concert-goers’ ears
with.

The “freebird” call actually has its roots in
Elizabethan theater, where, at certain playhouses, it was customary
to release a bird at the end of a show. (You may have noticed a
modern variant of this tradition in the films of John Woo). If a
play was going particularly badly, the groundlings ““
standing-room audience members near the stage ““ would call
for the “free bird,” and thus the end of the play.

The phrase lay dormant ““ excepting of course its literal
meaning ““ for the next 300 years until, in the 1940s, some
particularly erudite fop appropriated it to the burgeoning bebop
scene. During someone’s epically long but mediocre sax solo,
so the story goes, the wit in question blurted
“freebird” as loud as he could, cleverly referencing
not only the then-archaic jab, but also the legendary sax player
Charlie “Bird” Parker’s superior musicianship and
troubles with the law.

Though doubtless few in the club that night grasped the
barb’s manifold meanings, it nevertheless stuck in the jazz
community. Before long, seemingly nonsensical phrases like
“Freebird, man, dig?” were the parlance of the beret
and goatee crowd.

The word made its way into rock when the Deep South rockers of
Lynyrd Skynyrd released their legendary ballad bearing the same
name. Though the first usage at a concert is much disputed, it is
generally agreed that it happened at a Skynyrd show, probably for
no other reason than a fan wanting to hear the band’s hit
song.

Soon, however, fans started calling for the song at other shows.
Bands from The Rolling Stones to Led Zeppelin were forced to
explain again and again that they did not, in fact, know that song.
But it was too late; the “freebird” call had become a
rock ‘n’ roll tradition. Though it briefly died down in
the ’80s, the ’90s fascination with all things ironic
and old was more than enough to ensure its continued practice.

Bands have traditionally either responded with annoyance to such
comments, or simply ignored them altogether. However with stubborn
and incessantly continued usage, some artists, despairing that the
“freebird” calls will ever stop on their own, have
taken to more creative responses.

One group I saw heard the dreaded request and then proceeded to
actually play the song, verbatim, for fourteen minutes.

A friend told me of a clever singer who finished his first song
and then yelled “Freebird! Ha! Beat you to it.”

Some concert-goers have thankfully begun to realize that
“freebird” may not still be the droll banter it was
once considered, and have started to seek alternatives. While a few
have been genuinely clever (at a show by noted Billy Corgan-hater
Stephen Malkmus, someone requested the Smashing Pumpkins single
“Tonight, Tonight”), as a rule anything yelled between
songs is simply unfunny and annoying. In fact, at most shows these
days, after countless irritating comments, someone in the crowd
usually sensibly points out that we should just “let them
play!”

Sounds like good advice.

Dan’s top two songs to request other than
“Freebird” are The Velvet Underground’s
“Sister Ray,” and John Cage’s
“4’33.”