“You’re going to wear this to the show? You’re going to wear the shirt of the band you’re going to see? Don’t be that guy.”
These words have had a longer legacy in the world of music fandom than many bands. They were said by the character Droz played by Jeremy Piven, in the cult college comedy PCU. This is where I first heard this rule, as a sophomore in high school, and I’ve followed it ever since. It felt at the time like a tip from cooler, older kids (and yes, I realize that it may be hard to imagine that Jeremy Piven was cool in 2025). Plus, I didn’t want to stand out as “that guy.” “That guy” sounds like they’re quietly judged and mocked by everyone else at the concert. Hell, in the movie, “that guy” was a white dude with dreadlocks (who, granted, was played by future filmmaker Jon Favreau)! As a burgeoning music geek and established geek geek, I wanted to find community, not more ridicule. So I never wore a band’s shirt to their show, and most folks I’ve known since the mid-’90s never do either, suggesting a widespread adherence to this unwritten law.
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Recently, though, I came to reconsider it. I was at a concert—Metallica—and witnessed the opposite: dozens of fans, wearing the band’s merch, and seeming no less cool for doing so. Especially not the incredibly metal family who showed up three generations deep, all rocking different eras of Metallica shirts. It got me thinking: Why do we have this rule, where did it originate from, and is it time to retire it?
Based on research and online crowd-sourcing, it seems that PCU might be patient zero. At the very least, the movie was the first time this idea was stated directly in pop culture. Screenwriter Zak Penn—who wrote PCU with then writing partner Adam Leff—embraces his role as one of the rule’s parents and confirms its origins in their script. The line was intended as a joke, but Penn adds, “It’s like one of those things you come up with that is kind of true. Like, I always felt there was something a little bit lame about buying the shirt and putting it on, like you’re at a sports event, you know?” Still, Penn says the hope was to also poke fun at the music’s gatekeepers, explaining, “It came from an honest place of both mocking that but also the attitude of like, ‘These are the rules for having a genuine love of music.’ If you’re a hardcore music fan, everyone has that friend who’s just too cool, you know? Like you say you like an album and they’re like, ‘I’ve only been listening to this guy who records on a glockenspiel in their bedroom in Tokyo.’”
Penn is also quick to share credit for the line with Piven, who ad libbed the specific phrasing. “I don’t remember what the original line was, but ‘Don’t be that guy’ was perfect,” shares Penn, “I do think that’s a big source of this having such legs.”
Regardless of Penn, Leff, and Piven’s intent, the rule has real practitioners beyond just me. “If you wear the shirt of the band you’re going to see at their show, you are a dork. There’s no way around it,” says Mike Williamson, frontman for the band Jr. Juggernaut and nigh-professional concert-goer. He firmly stands by this idea, but doesn’t remember learning it from PCU or anywhere in particular, sharing, “It was instinctual. I’m not a fan of stating the obvious and it just irked me because it’s so obvious. It’s like, yeah we’re all at the show because we like this band, no need to try and prove it so hard.” This is why, by Williamson’s metrics, the dorkiest offense is wearing a band’s shirt to a show at a small club or theater, where clearly everyone in attendance is a fan. However, arena or stadium shows—especially for artists on, say, the Taylor Swift level—is, “a more forgivable offense, done in the simple spirit of ‘going out and having fun tonight’ because, really, you can’t think you look that cool as you sit there eating nachos while watching big video monitors.”
Counterpoint to this argument: “I love when people wear Cleo shirts to a Cleo show!” This is singer, songwriter, and Letters to Cleo vocalist Kay Hanley’s reaction when asked about the rule, and she’s not alone amongst musicians. “We personally love seeing people in our merch at shows,” echoed Minnesota’s bubblegrunge band Gully Boys, adding, “Our merch is cool, so of course we want people to wear it!” Emo-meets-math rock band Bottom Bracket even finds it to be touching, with guitarist and vocalist Mario Cannamela revealing that when they see people wearing their merch, “It puts a smile on my face every time and makes me feel like the work I’m doing as a musician is worthwhile. I don’t really find it cringey at all.” Psychedelic synth punk Fancy Mark breaks it down more bluntly with, “As long as you shower within 24 hours before the show, nobody cares about the shirt anymore.”
Concertgoers I surveyed online are largely shifting too, agreeing with the artists above. Many specifically cite how we are in a post-Swiftie society. Old rules of what’s cool or dorky don’t apply anymore, or as music fan Jessie Juwono adds with a shrug, “We should embrace our ‘cringe,’ so that might cover for wearing band shirts to other concerts.” The rule’s proud papa no longer follows it religiously either, as PCU’s Penn started our conversation by admitting, “I wore a Metallica shirt to a Metallica concert like eight weeks ago, so I’ve definitely broken this rule.”
Yes, the writer whose line of dialogue inspired me to never wear a band’s shirt to their concert wore a band’s shirt to the same show that made me re-examine this concept. My own music geekery had come full circle and made me realize it is finally time to stop worrying and simply be that guy.
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