It was a weird day already. A bunch of French guys were in the same bus from Zürich to Munich, all in Lederhosen, drinking beer at 10 in the morning, which could only mean one thing; Oktoberfest in Munich. The city would be packed with boys in Lederhosen and girls in Dirndls, all drinking massive quantities and singing along with the most horrible music imaginable. Was it more ironic to go to a New Order gig knowing that it would be a pocked of musical resistance or that Lederhosen-like Nazi symbolism figures prominently in early Joy Division artwork?

Munich and New Order, closely linked by history.

The day got weirder as I entered the venue, a small philharmonic theater with a first row right in front of the stage. I cursed myself. Yes, I had a first row ticket, but just too much to the side, behind a big set of speakers. To my right a middle-aged guy with perfect seat and an empty spot to his left. His smile betrayed utter satisfaction. He had the best seat, booked months in advance, and unlike his neighbour to the right, who was wearing a New order T-shirt he just bought that evening, his vintage T-shirt showed true fandom.

All of that mildly entertaining, just like the Chinese support act, but then New order started playing and now it really got funny and weird. The seat to the left of our true fan indeed stayed empty, and I quickly moved to take it, but the guy to his right, the one with the brand new T-shirt, immediately jumped up and started dancing, right in front of him, and would continue to do so for the whole concert. Rather than following his example, like I and practically everyone else did, our true fan stayed seated, getting gradually more annoyed, angry even by the fact that he couldn’t see anything, couldn’t even shoot a decent picture. In the end he was saved by the wife of the glorious dancer, who probably was only attending the gig because of her husband. She offered her seat to the angry fan, who accepted without smiling, like he finally got what he deserved.