MED 014 | FAÇ 51 AAA, 1991

This backstage pass from The Haçienda (and the latest deposit into the My Empire of Dirt archive) has got me reminiscing about the psychology and social swagger of being able to say, "I’m on the guest list”, and the sliding descent from having a legitimate reason for being on it to the lows of deploying whatever tactics necessary to get on it —from tapping into people that you believe owe you one, to crafting ever more complex and devious lies that even you can’t believe are coming out of your mouth.

YES, I’m ashamed to admit I spent hours outside a nightclub pretending to be DJ John Kelly’s wife, complete with a fake Scouse accent. No, they didn’t let me in.

I mean, feel free to share your own stories here; don't let me cringe on my own; we’ve all done it.

The revered and enviable backstage pass gives a sense of status and the thrill of access to somewhere away from the masses, despite how dull that sometimes turns out to be. This plays into the perception of the experience vs the actual experience—realising you're wasting your time because it's boring as hell in the “VIP” lounge, and you wish you were out front amidst the real action.

But that sense of belonging to a particular group or being on a special list is the secret sauce to any marketing (and not just for events). Making sure the actual experience is better than the perception of the experience is rarely achieved though, imho.

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