The My Little Brony Show at the Ryman

Yeah, so the guys in front of us at the Tenacious D concert Saturday night were out of control. I’ve joked around called people “Broseph” and “my little brony” before, but this was serious. This was every bro stereotype come to life right in front of my eyes.

And it was horrifying. I was baffled, annoyed and embarrassed (for them) all at the same time.

These four dudes, most likely in their late 20s, all wearing basically the same preppy shorts/shirt combo with the same just-floppy-enough haircut, were losing their goddamn minds the entire show. I was glad this wasn’t the usual Nashville-at-The-Ryman crowd, all snooty and refusing to stand and dance a bit, but these guys were just too much. At one point I had to stop myself from leaning forward and asking if they were actually from here. Like, were they Amish? Had they never seen a concert before? Did they think Tenacious D were actually Nickelback and they had made it to Bro Heaven?

They flailed their arms the entire time. They linked arms and rocked each other back and forth, high-fived and bro-hugged, and held their tiny rum and cokes out over the heads of the people in front of them, toasting every other word that was sung. One guy shot video of several songs on his iPhone, except he leaned his face down to the mouthpiece and shouted the words himself. I can’t imagine how excited his Facebook friends were when he posted all of that amazing footage. He took about 100 photos with his phone, too.

Now, I generally don’t get crabby when people stand up in front of me and dance around at a show. That’s what you’re supposed to do. And I’m tall; I can usually see over people’s bobbing heads. But these jokers weren’t just dancing, they were obstructing the views of anyone in their vicinity like it was their job. I couldn’t see shit over their saluting, drink-hoisting and arm-waving, which they did the entire time.

We had good seats, too—fifth row smack dab in the center of the balcony, which is usually around where I look for seats at The Ryman if I can’t get in the first 10 rows or so on the floor. Luckily I was there with Ian, who is legally obligated to let me invade his personal space, because I spent most of the show leaning into him so I could see around the spectacle in front of me and catch a glimpse of the band.

Oh well. It was still a good show. I could still see the giant phallic phoenix they raised on the stage, and from what I could tell Jack Black and Kyle Gass didn’t stray too far from their microphones so I don’t think I missed any grand theatrics. I supposed I could’ve complained to an usher, but these guys were having what I’m pretty sure was the best night of their entire lives. Or maybe it was their first concert. Either way, I hope Ian and I earned a little bit of concert karma* for sitting behind that ridiculousness for a couple hours.

*I also deserve concert karma for not calling out all the freaking line-cutters in the merchandise line that caused me to miss out on getting a Hatch Show print!! We got there early so I could buy one, but tons of people just marched on up and nobody would do anything, so by the time I was able to get to the front they had sold out. Sad times.