I've been to more gigs than you've had hot dinners.
And that's not even an exaggeration. During a spell as a music scout, I was racking up three or four gigs a night, six nights a week. My modus operandi: skulking around in the shadows desperately hoping that the next song you'd hear would be the new Thriller (it never was); like a gig-going James Milner, I must have made my way around every square foot of every venue in London, and most of the UK to boot.
I saw every type of band from every conceivable angle, with every sort of crowd present that you could think of and, on the whole, it was an enjoyable experience. On only a few occasions were a band so bad that I had to leave (one example that immediately springs to mind is watching a Japanese noisecore act whose name escapes me, in Bethnal Green's somewhat inappropriately-named Pleasure Unit, that I had to escape after a song and a half in genuine fear of losing my hearing) and 99% of the time, the crowd were pleasant and the vibes good.
I've never been averse to a spot of moshing, a bit of shoulder-to-shoulder and a few drops of spilt beer at a packed gig and, being six feet tall, escaping to the back was always, if needed, an easy solution while still getting a good view.
But, at the risk of sounding like a gig granddad, I've noticed a change in recent years. Whether it's the new social times we live in, whether it's down to the venues themselves, or whether it's a losing of the old musical tribes, things are no longer what they were.
Here's my ten biggest bugbears with giggoing in 2016.