Stand up or sit down, it’s fight, fight, fight

Mick JAGGER was singing, but my attention was on the guy sitting next to me. As his face turned redder and redder I felt a queasy sort of passive-neighbor fear, the kind that Canadians must feel when they look south.

It was about six years ago at the Arrowhead Pond in Anaheim but I remember it like it was only four. The guy sitting next to me was bulky but not tall, I remember that, but I couldn’t tell you much more about him. I do, however, remember very distinctly what he did that night. With no warning, he jumped up and punched another guy right in the butt. A haymaker right in the Hanes.

It needs to be explained that the guy who took that punch (and about five more as he tumbled to the floor) was standing on the chair directly in front of his attacker, so the target made some sense as far as mechanics, I suppose. The whole tussle was just a battle in a war that I have seen waged in arenas and amphitheaters as long as I have been going to concerts. It’s a sectarian struggle, a clash of views (or blocked views).

Call it the Stands versus the Sits.The Stones Stander had been up from the first chords of the night and the guy behind him was clearly a Sitter. There was bickering and then everything went up a notch when the Stander stepped up on his seat. Next thing you knew, the Sitter was taken away in cuffs and the dazed Stander was walking out with medics.

It was no Altamont, but once you’ve seen buttocks violence it’s hard to shake the image. After that night I became fascinated with the Stands-Sits conflict.

It doesn’t happen everywhere. At a Norah Jones show, for instance, the Valium melodies take the fight out of any Standers. Likewise, at System of a Down shows, Sitters switch sides or find themselves eating Doc Martens at the bottom of the mosh.

The conflict is most ugly at shows that pack in middle-aged fans. It’s easy to assume that this demographic lump has members transitioning unevenly from youthful urges (Stand! Dance!) to more mature tendencies (Sit ... Nap ...). At a Paul Simon show at the Hollywood Bowl, I remember one fan saying his “knees ain’t what they used to be and neither is Paul” when his friend urged him to stand up.

But why the anger? One reason is the stakes are so high. The rare night out is about as spontaneous as a retirement plan. Drivers and baby-sitters have been hired, expensive dinners and drinks have been bought. At an Eagles show at Staples, I saw an argument between two guys who had made a major investment to hear “Peaceful Easy Feeling.” The exchange went something like this:

“I paid $800 for this seat, I want to see the show!”

“Yeah, and for my $800 I can stand on my head if I want!” Some Standers seem to have something to prove, a gesture to make. At an Eric Clapton show, also at Staples, the audience was glued to the seats in my section except for one woman who stood the whole time despite protests. For a few songs she danced. Then she slowed to a sway. Finally, she just stood there, hands at her side, a pilgrim’s righteousness on her face.

Perhaps someday these fan factions can see eye to eye, but that seems unlikely because, well, some of them are standing and others are sitting. Sitters prefer the lap of luxury -- they want to take in the music with their ears, not their feet -- but Standers look down their nose at the idea of rock as refinement. Hey, did you bring a Barcalounger to Woodstock?

I think it’s going to get worse. Boomers are getting older. Paul McCartney is two years away from singing “When I’m Sixty-Four” at his own birthday party. Dave Davies of the Kinks had a stroke this year and David Bowie had heart surgery. Remember when rock stars had overdoses? You may see artists taking their own chairs up on stage.

The next battlefields? Rod Stewart, John Fogerty and John Mellencamp are each coming to town.

I still think of that Stones show and the man who took a punch in the name of rock ‘n’ roll. He took a stand when he jumped up on that chair, and he paid a price. I bet he couldn’t sit for a week.

Geoff Boucher can be reached at geoff.boucher@latimes.com