I love live music. I was a late starter (I was 18 before I travelled 50 miles to Cardiff to see U2 for my first live gig), but as soon as I moved to London for college, I took full advantage of the vibrant love music scene.

I had a hiatus for a few years as I lost touch with gig buddies and hunkered down to be a dad. But then about 10 years ago, I decided it was time to start going to see live music again. I’d acquired some new gig buddies and aimed for a gig a month.

I’m finding that there are far too many great artists and bands playing live in London to limit myself to one a month, plus I’ve become comfortable with going alone (there are some acts I like that nobody else I know is interested in), so it’s become one of my main hobbies.

One thing that always fascinates me at events is the demographics of the crowd. With newer acts, I was always self-conscious about being one of the older members of the crowd, but I’ve come to realise that there are plenty of Generation Xers at many of the gigs I attend. We’re the 6Music generation, the music fans who have had kids (who now often accompany us to gigs) that have grown up and are free again to follow our passions.

As I’ve ruminated on this for a while, I’ve refined my people-watching to realise that, in many cases, crowds at many live music events are often either Gen X or Gen Z, with few Gen Y in attendance. My theory is that Yers will have young children which, as I found, is incompatible with a social life that involves late nights and loud music.

Initially, I liked the idea of being ‘down wiv da kidz’. I have a mental age of 27, so I felt comfortable surrounded by young people. However, gradually, I’ve realised that while we’re all rubbing shoulders in the audience, there are actually a number of differences between us. And those differences become chasm-like when it comes to gig-going etiquette.

So in the interests of cross-generational harmony, I thought I should offer three top tips to my fellow live music fans of a younger vintage.

1. Please don’t sing. I’m sure you have a fine voice, and that you have a real passion for the artist’s oeuvre, but bellowing out the lyrics of songs in a live music environment rarely sounds tuneful. Plus gigs are bloody expensive these days, so having some white kid screaming Kendrick Lamar’s rhymes in my ear, when I’ve paid £90 to see a true musical genius does tend to take the edge off the experience.

2. Have your conversations somewhere else. One of the best things about live music is ‘being in the moment’, focusing on the musicians and their show. Having people standing near you talking about their weekend plans, the latest gossip from their workplace or their most recent Tinder disaster is a little off-putting. And by ‘a little off-putting’, I mean really fucking annoying, especially during slower, stripped-down songs. You’ve paid good money to come to this show, so why not concentrate on enjoying it? Prioritise your ears over your mouth.

3. You don’t need to record the show on your phone. Even in my decrepitude, I can still remember gigs from my twenties. Without wishing to sound like someone recounting their memories of the last world war, we didn’t have smartphones - yes, it was so long ago such devices were still in the realms of science fiction - so we used to pay attention to what was happening onstage, recording it in the memory banks in our heads. And those memories have stayed there (mostly: there are a few hazy, half-remembered, alcohol-doused images). Yes, I do take the odd pic for posting on Facebook, because the old memory isn’t what it used to be, so I use illustrated check-ins to help me remember gigs in my approaching dotage, but I don’t film parts of songs. (What’s the use of 90 seconds of a song, anyway? If you share it, it must be really frustrating for the viewer to see just a snatch of a song. I know: I’m just not built for this world…)

Don’t get me wrong: I’m not advocating Japanese-like silent gigs, punctuated only by outbreaks of polite applause at the end of a song. Live music is at its best when it transports you, wrapping you up in the passion and emotion of it all. By all means sing along, but do it quietly, unless the artist wants everyone to be whipped up in the fervour of the song and join them in belting it out.

Now if this marks me out as a slightly repressed weirdo, I can own that. But gigs really are my happy place in this crazy, mixed-up world - a place where it’s OK to be a weirdo (especially at a Charlatans show). And at a time when we’re all trying to think more of others, a little consideration goes a long way.

And it won’t ruin your fun. Us oldies still have plenty of fun at gigs, even if we’re not talking about free bus passes and filming the gig to show it to that young guy in the finance department who wears band T-shirts.

We even dance sometimes. It might be dad dancing, but nobody’s perfect.