Spitting on the Front Row

I used to spit all over the front row when I sang. And I used to love watching the split fly when I watched someone else sing.

The spitting, disgusting as it may have been, was the unintentional byproduct of clear communication (i.e. good diction). The singer literally drenched the audience in their communicative intent. Disregarding the social expectation that one keep their saliva inside their mouth, thank you very much, the singer threw themself into the narrative—or non-narrative, as the case may be—of their performance.

In a pandemic-ridden world, the thought of spitting on the front row is now horrifying. It’s one reason why vocal performances will be some of the last concerts to return to traditional venues, at least in their original capacity. Like shaking hands, sharing pens, and finger food, spitting on the front row is a relic from our pre-pandemic world that will likely never look or feel the same. (This could be a very good thing, if you’re the decent type who would elect to sit far removed from the spit zone. Not me.)

However, like the elbow bump and contactless delivery, I trust us to innovate in the face of catastrophe. So I now wonder: what is the post-pandemic version of spitting on the front row? In other words, what does clear communication, dramatic intention, and compelling self-abandon look like now, in our mostly virtual world?

(Photo by Joshua Hoehne on Unsplash)