I am a girl. I weigh 120 pounds. I have more way Sigur Ros in my iTunes than is necessary. I do not like moshpits. I go to shows to immerse myself in the sound, to get face-to-face with those that I worship through my speakers. I do not go to get pushed around by some 200-pound jock who had a few too many jack n’ cokes at the overpriced bar. With the shows I attend, there should be no such ‘pitting going on—and, with the number of arms-folded hipsters afraid to muss their hair, this is usually true. However, I am continually surprised by the number of inappropriate moshpits I see at concerts, instigated by songs that have absolutely no business being moshed to.

Franz Ferdinand - Michael
The reason people mosh is something I’ve been struggling to figure out. Perhaps it releases aggression, or allows people to physically connect with the music. Maybe it’s because the moshers are drunken frat boys who have no idea how they found themselves at a Franz Ferdinand concert. This song and its shoutable chorus elicits lots of different responses: sexy dancing, feisty pogoing, maybe even some spinning. Slinky and subversive come-ons to indie queens hardly merit “WOO!” and devil horns from the beerboy crowd. Why such violence induced by arty disco? Franz Ferdinand doesn’t want us to beat each other up! They want us to forget gender boundaries and synchronize our dance steps.

Sons and Daughters - Red Receiver
Always pay attention before you, mosh-pitter of my nightmares, pass judgment. “You suck!” was yelped in my ear just before a scarcely 120-pound Bright Eyes wannabe freaked out and launched into me. Granted, Sons and Daughters are pretty weird, what with the quasi-rockabilly sentiment and Scottish accents at the fore, disguising lyrics I probably wouldn’t understand anyway. Little Oberst Jr. should have at least given the band the benefit of the doubt, though. There are layers and complexities in the weirdness to be discovered. that are probably easier to navigate when one is not flailing about as if they were in their own private disco, where horrible/violent dancing is clearly encouraged.

Death Cab for Cutie - For What Reason
“Dude, this is a freaking Death Cab show!” one sore fan shouted to the pair of arrhythmically flailing punk chicks. You might think it would be hard to get all hardcore extreme like woah when the music is as achingly mid-tempo as this. And it should be. You should sway to this stuff, maybe bounce once or twice during the chorus, cry during the part that reminds you of your friends from junior high. But unfortunately, obnoxious “we totally knew this band before the OC” fans will always be in existence, and they have to show their dedication somehow. Kicking people in the face to an obscure track off of the album no one listens to is apparently the way to do it.

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