My 18 Hour Saturday Workday

I swear I'm not an ol' fogie. But....
I worked backstage at a heavy metal band festival last weekend.
Nine thrashing, screaming bands in torn, black clothing, face piercings, angry tattoos and stiff hair. Baby rockstars, a friend calls them. I call them tiresome, unoriginal, and old news. The rock bands of the 70’s perfected the ‘trash the venue’ techniques until they knew better. These bands haven’t learned anything at all.
They have multiple hangers-on, skanky groupies, and replica fans. Higher maintenance than most other music genres, their management crews are often demanding, sneaky and arrogant.
I assume they are not used to nice places like our theater, because they leave the dressing rooms looking like the basement of an abandoned house. Pieces of food and broken liquor bottles on the floors are the norm. Smokers arrogantly lit up anywhere and everywhere and left the evidence behind.
The band members separately are often friendly and nice. But it only seems to take one or two assholes to make the others stink, too. No one seems to rein anyone in. There are no good leaders in these bands, only bad ones.
Modern heavy metal music never turned me on after the 70’s, and even then it was only Led Zeppelin. After spending 18 hours backstage with the heavy metal crowd, and about two minutes listening to the music, my feelings haven't changed.