I hate encores

... my most hater take yet

I’m headed out on tour on Friday (dates & tickets here). If you haven’t heard about it yet, then let’s collectively blame the algorithm for beating down the hopes of a little folk boi. But if you have, and you haven’t bought tickets yet, then please go buy. I am getting stressed.

With that out of the way, I wanted to let you guys know something very important… there will be no encore at the shows because I hate encores. Here’s a little piece I wrote about it.

*disclaimer* sorry if your feelings get hurt by this…

There’s a feet-shuffling silence after the applause, a pregnant pause that seems to hold all the world’s idiocy in its space. The band has quickly left the stage, but you can see their dumb little faces peeking through the curtain. An audience member (a plant, no doubt) gives a half-hearted, “One more song!” and slowly, reluctantly, resignedly, others join in. The band, seeing their cue, saunters back to the stage. “Thought you were done with us, eh?” drawls the lead singer, who is undoubtedly dressed like a Costco-brand Harry Styles. They play their most popular song in the end, but it is equally likely that they first unplug their instruments and do an “impromptu” acoustic song in the middle of the crowd, during which the fans desperately try to avoid eye contact.

My friends, it is time to put to rest that horribly overplayed display of self-indulgence that is The Encore.

Now, you know that I am a touring musician. Whether this lends me an extra layer of credibility or puts me too close to the subject at hand is for you to decide. But I have seen The Encore at hundreds of shows, and have unfortunately partaken in its seductive ways myself. It is very nearly always bad, and mostly never worth it.

You may be thinking, But I saw [insert beloved artist] at [insert arena] and they brought out [insert slightly more niche beloved artist] for their encore! It was amazing! To you, sweet reader, I would ask a few questions. How long was that show? Probably two hours at the minimum. Were you genuinely surprised when, after the contrived rigamarole of leaving the stage, the artist came back? Doubt it. Did you get a UTI from holding in your pee so long? Definitely.

And finally: couldn’t they have just done it all in one set?

In our beautiful day and age where it costs $11 for a dozen eggs, we all want to get the best bang for our buck. Because of this, artists have felt the need to not only play for longer, but to sprinkle little gimmicks throughout the show to placate our insatiable desire to have the best Instagram story. Split screen Temple Run on a TikTok type beat. Baby want binky kinda shit. Bread and circuses, plebeians.

The Encore, perhaps at one time, was a mystical occurrence. When Elvis would haul himself back to the stage to continue gyrating his preeminent pelvis, thousands of teenage girls probably passed the fuck out. I’ve seen a video of a Michael Jackson fan literally falling unconscious when he did that hip thing. In such times, The Encore had an element of surprise, and that is what it should have.

But the jig is up. The mysterious, larger-than-life artist is no more, ousted by the wave of social media influencers masquerading as musicians. It’s all drop shipping, man! The Krabby Patty formula is out! We know what’s coming every single time! And no amount of pageantry will distract us from the fact that we know the show isn’t over until we hear that song, our song (the top song on the Artist’s Profile).

If the crowd really wants “one more song!” then by all means, pop off. Play your little heart out. But me? I’ll already be first in line at the halal cart on the corner.

Love,

teaky