I should know better than to stand up in defence of Alfred Hickling, bearing in mind the reaction former Guardian pop critic Tom Cox received when he wrote about something similar several years ago - Cox was unhappy about the squalid state of London venues, and suggested they be fitted out with, if I recall, air conditioning and armchairs. For his pains, he was lampooned in the NME, which declared that going to gigs was supposed to involve suffering, and if he didn't like it, he should do something less strenuous.
So I hasten to say that the following has nothing to do with selfish personal comfort - it's a public-spirited protest on behalf of regular gig-goers.
The Hammersmith Apollo in west London is a seated venue popular with mid-sized acts, especially Americans. At least, it was a seated venue. Around 18 months ago, it began removing the seats for certain shows, leaving a desolate space downstairs.
Obviously, this is to enable audiences to act out rituals that are only possible when standing up, such as moshing, crowd-surfing and spraying beer in a 10ft radius. Big up the Apollo for being so rock'n'roll. Another benefit of removing seats is that it increases capacity from 3,632 to 5,039. That's an additional 1,407 bodies that can be stuffed in, which, at around £20 per ticket, is an extra £28,140 in the till.
I was there recently to see Arkansas pop-goth godheads Evanescence, who were screamed and moshed at by 5,039 people. The crowd surged forward in black lace waves in an impressive manifestation of emo kid power. But if you'd rather not have surged - if you just wanted to plant your non-emo butt somewhere and watch - it was a pain, because there was no choice. Like it or not, you surged.
Or you went to the balcony, where standing was prohibited, so Evanescence looked the size of puppies. But at least the Apollo is substantially smaller than Wembley Arena, where seats have been taken out at some shows for the last few years. Now, that IS a joy, standing around for several hours in the north London bleakodome's cheerless wastes. Suppose your preference is to watch the gig in an attitude of meditative contemplation? A chair would come in handy. Not that I'm complaining, of course.
