The Trouble with Front-Left
Mayhem nomenclature for the masses
There were times not too long ago (c. 2020, that cursed year of the rat) when I sincerely believed people may never gather again, at least not in large numbers. The need for Front-Left would be banished to history, to times when naïve and uncongested people would find themselves in very congested situations and need a non-Apple-licensed way to Find Their Friends.
In case you still don’t know what I’m talking about, Front-Left is a location in relation to a stage and a sound system. Or … is it in relation to the audience, when facing the stage? Or from the view of the gal in the sound booth fifty metres away from the stage? Or from the bar along the side wall? Or that Nobel Prize nominated coat check? The list of possibilities expands aggressively. Against Front-Left, Occam’s razor’s a paltry match.
Let’s say you and your band of rebels are taking to the streets. To be clear, I mean for a festive night, not a coup; your motley crew is meeting at a concert and as Dr Seuss tells us, it’s fun to have fun but you have to know how. You and your gang know how.
That fun-having includes finding each other once you arrive. So where do you meet? Out in the street as the concert begins and rain and scalpers plague you from all directions? No way, that’s for chumps and ticketless fools. Outside the popcorn stand? This is a concert not a movie, wise-guy. No – of course you meet Front-Left. All the cool kids know this is the spot.
The trouble is, directions aren’t as distinct as they seem like they should be. If you’ve received this secret communique and are hoping to unite with everyone – and not spending a frenetic thirty minutes trying to find your friends – you should position yourself in the right area to at least have a chance of paths crossing. In my experience, it’s surprising how quickly paths seem to cross, especially in dense settings like these, as long as you’re in the right vicinity, you have your wits about you, and you’ve dipped the soles of your leatherless shoes in goat blood before departure.
This is the point when at least a few of you readers are shouting “JUST CALL EACH OTHER!!” K first of all, I can’t hear you, you’re shouting at an illuminated rectangle and that rectangle possesses neither heart nor soul nor feelings. You’ve also outed yourself, because anyone who has experienced the heat of battle knows that shouting into a phone in a 100 dB environment is achieving nothing other than Pure Withdrawal from the moment.
It seems like Front-Left should be simple because “front” means something, and “left” means something too. Put ‘em together and what do you get? Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo.
I’ll give you this much: if you get confused about “front”, this entire thing is a lost cause.
But according to what reference point are we determining “left”?
Theatre-people know there are words for these locations, and I’ll tell you that despite spending half my life performing music, I still feel like a kid who needs to stare at their hands when they hear “stage left” to remind themselves what direction means what.
Thanks, theatre-people. But this still doesn’t help us with finding our friends who said we’d find them Front-Left with our gear and the goat sacrifice and the boppin’ and groovin’ and finger-poppin’ we so badly love ‘em for.
Now we discover this extra reference point – house – which allow leftness and rightness to return to glory and start providing us with information about the goddamn world again.
Nevertheless, we don’t see Front-Left anywhere here either, though we’re starting to develop a bit of mayhem-nomenclature to help us find our way when the 153 kW Mayan Warrior system is massaging your sternum and you just want to find your friend that always has the electrolytes.
But that may be because just like thinking you can use your phone to find your crew in a too-loud setting, we discover that everything is always about a state of mind. Yes, Front-Left may be a place, but is it? Front-Left is a state of mind.
And for the rest of us who want something more precise, you’ve now got language to build a universe upon. Share it with your mailman, have ‘em share it with their dog.
May you find your people, may your people find you.