W

hen I lived in four-season countries, the most eagerly awaited events during the summer were concerts. As the weather became friendlier for three months, bands would go on more tours beyond the confines of indoor stadiums. Actually, I consider outdoor summer concerts as one of the most romantic dates — the sun is out, the music is loud, the drinks are cold, the guy is hot — a moment when all is right in the world.

The demand for entertainment in Indonesia has risen sharply in the past decade, a phenomenon that should not be a surprise for anyone watching the steady growth of Indonesia’s income per capita figures and those who are familiar with Abraham Maslow’s 1943 theory of a hierarchy of needs. That some of Indonesia’s leading academics and media sources have chosen to judge such entertainment as irresponsible, over-consumptive behavior of a growing middle class is blindsided at best, if not self-righteously cynical.

It’s heartening to see the growth of promising domestic talent, and international artists choosing to perform live for their loyal Indonesian fans. What is disheartening is the lack of availability of appropriate venues to showcase these talents. One such example was when the famous band Train was only granted a makeshift stage in the atrium of a mall.

These days, when a song, movie, or museum tour is but one click away on a personal gadget, the need for entertainment goes beyond the actual art into the access and presentation. Beyond wanting to see a particular art form, audiences also demand the whole experience, from procuring tickets to getting to and from venues, for it to be considered pleasant. And they will pay accordingly.

Music concerts have long been one of the most popular entertainment forms and now, thanks to the TV show Glee, so are stage musicals. In the past year, I have not only seen an increase in the number of concerts and musicals presented in Jakarta, but also far greater mobility of audience members. I’ve seen Yogyakarta youngsters chasing some obscure indie Japanese band to Jakarta; Jakarta crowds flocking to Surakarta for an outdoor musical previously shown indoors; and Indonesians from different cities flying to neighboring countries for shows they could have caught in Jakarta or Bali.

I tried asking around and, aside from diehard fans or the vanity of watching shows before your peers, most people went for value of money. If the pass for a concert in Jakarta is priced almost equally as that for the same concert in Bali or Singapore, while cheap airfares and lodgings can easily be found online, audiences might as well fork out the small difference and make it a two-day holiday instead of a mere two-hour concert.

Ambience and convenience were invariably cited. Perhaps tired of the confines of the concrete jungle, more city warriors find outdoor concerts alluring — yet aren’t necessarily inclined to deal with unnecessary trash and mud. As someone who braved enough muddy, outdoor concerts in my 20s (a particular three-day concert in White Flint, Colorado, featuring Ziggy Marley, Jamiroquai and a constant haze of weed comes to mind), I can understand this.

As public transportation isn’t exactly a forte in Indonesia’s growing cities, commuting to certain venues, like Ancol or Sentul for Jakartans, can be excruciating — sometimes, sucking the fun out before the actual show even begins. Not to mention procuring passes — many Indonesian performance venues still require people to buy their tickets in person, and the ones dabbling with online systems often fail willing-to-pay customers.

The recent Maroon 5 concert was a perfect example; the promoter canceled the usual early bird booths less than 24 hours before the gig, and then redirected customers to an online system that miraculously managed to sell 2,500 passes in two seconds (much faster than the rate for World Cup and Olympic passes), only to announce after a while that many passes were still somehow available.

With concert dates some two months away, no wonder many dejected fans decided to spend the same amount to watch not only Maroon 5, but also other world-class performers and, oh yes, a Formula 1 Grand Prix race, on a litter-free and bug-free grass field that is easily accessed by a cheap subway, and where the large stage is fully equipped with a first-rate sound system that makes the audience feel like it is listening to the music indoors, and for which passes are easily obtained via a hassle-free online ticketing system. Where is this place? Not too far — in neighboring Singapore.

You can call them spoiled middle classes, or you can call them discerning, paying customers who actually value their hard-earned income. I’m a staunch supporter of less commercial art forms, as you might have read in one of my earlier columns, and have often trudged into unpopular exhibition halls to walk my talk, but as far as music concerts are concerned, in a market that is long-established, I feel that local promoters have had enough time to learn the ropes and can no longer rely on patriotic support from domestic audiences.

We demand good entertainment and services, the whole pleasant experience, and the right to choose the best value for money.

While our dear local promoters are (hopefully) reviewing their sales and marketing plans, I’m going to peek into my wallet and jot down some numbers to decide whether in December I’ll see The Englishman in town, or somewhere else. I’m sure the moon will still be over whatever street I eventually see him in.

Lynda Ibrahim is a Jakarta-based writer and consultant, with a penchant for purple, pussycats and pop culture.