I am no expert on the acoustic properties of rain. In fact, I'm no expert on acoustics at all. It's a none-too-surprising realisation that came to me on two separate occasions in the past week.
The first was while I sat in a so-called ‘acoustic sweet spot' at the Queensland Performing Arts Complex absorbing a rare performance of the largest symphony ever written - The Gothic by Havergal Brian for those of you playing along at home.
As I crossed my legs rather effeminately and tried to hold back a beer-bloated bladder at the interval-free, two hour long performance the house lights finally came back on. My classically trained companion waxed lyrical about the sound properties of our ridiculously expensive seats while I grimaced painfully but politely.
I then waddled off without saying a word and desperately sought a lavatory.
The second occasion though was something I thought I would be much more accustomed to - a game of football at Suncorp Stadium - and once again it seemed like expensive tickets equalled an acoustic sweet-spot. It was the first time this season that I could clearly hear four separate sections of supporters sing their songs and chant their, erm, chants.
You see, I am a sucker for a bargain when I support my orange and maroon heroes. Whether it be taking advantage of last season's $15 corner flag promotion or just chancing my hand on good old-fashioned general admittance tickets - you will usually find me sinking ale with my fellow plebs in the cheap seats.
However for the first home derby of the year I splashed out (pun intended) on tickets at halfway, five rows from the front and in the pouring rain. Of course, I like many others got dutifully drenched.
My shoes overflowed like the Wivenhoe Dam spillway, my wallet slowly disintegrated each time I took it out of my pocket to finance a beer run, and said beer then ended up even more watered down than usual as your cheap-arsed blogger sought to get as much of his money's worth as possible.
Thankfully, all these things proved only mild irritants as I was entertained by some enterprising football and some sensational singing from all sets of saturated supporters.
The Den were, as expected, unperturbed by the weather and ran through their usual set list of simple yet endearing sing-alongs. Looking far more formidable from my further-than-usual quarters, they were a poncho polluted sea of orange at the northern end that ebbed and flowed as they attempted to inspire a final push for victory by the home team.
At the other end there was the River City Crew - a collection of little drummer boys and girls that managed to segue some shoulder-to-shoulder shuffling to their usual scarf-twirling, three-four time routine. Their efforts fully deserving of Kosta Barbarouses' knee slide celebration only metres before them.
And then there was the geographically confused Northern Element, also at the southern end, directing their spittled sprays at the travelling Gold Coast fans.
These guys are old school from their fashion sense to the dates on their yellowing birth certificates but that didn't stop them from doing some of the heavy lifting that night. They successfully maintained a tirade of friendly abuse despite our beloved Roar twice falling behind on the scoreboard.
Finally, there was The Travelling Beach (AKA Queensland's Shame) who surprisingly turned out in reasonable numbers considering the tickets had to be purchased with real money rather than good intentions.
All of these voices created a cacophony of conflicting support that could be heard clear as crystal from where I sat and all supporters groups should be congratulated for it. Begrudgingly, that even includes the Gold Coast fans.
Now I will admit there is a chance, albeit only a slight one, that my ears possibly misled me.
Perhaps the bountiful beer bubbles in my brain altered my perceptions. Or maybe everything just sounds better after listening to the world's largest symphony for two hours straight without a bathroom break. But there is just as greater chance that paying for better quality seats does have actual advantages.
Whatever the case may be, it was fantastic to hear all the supporters groups on song despite the awful conditions. In my humble opinion Gene Kelly himself couldn't have sung much better in the rain.
But then again, as I've already established, I'm no expert on acoustics. Well, except for the Nirvana Unplugged album. It's no symphony but it is what I call music.
