"You can't take it with you when you go."
My mother sang her sage wisdom ad nauseam as i grew up. Be it in reference to broken toys, stains, torn comics, or in conversations of material comparison with other kids in the neighbourhood. The phrase was her antidote against our childhood attempts at "keeping up with the jones." And it worked. Mayhaps a bit too well.
Through sleepless nights i'd ponder the proverb. Oscillating between nihilistic and mindful existential thoughts. If ultimately no material thing mattered, what could? Solely the entirety of a singular moment. Abstract and intangible. Always here though forever out of reach. Yet, even in the dark, with nothing in my hands, i could still hold my memories.
While there's no guarantees, if we assume that in the disintegration of death we can retain our sense of self, hypothetically, we should be able to remember our past. And if one could remember their life, then the memories that make it up are of the highest value.
A liberating realization. That was an absolute fatal blow to any fiscal aspirations i may have had. Why invest in long term material goods when it’s the moments that matter? The accumulation of moments would amalgamate to memories, memories to carry safe into the beyond.
From there, from that thought, there is nothing left but choices.
Choices of what you want to invest in.
Even playing with the possibility that you may forget a few things, or lose it all, choosing experiences is a sound, flawless venture. To be in the moment. To make memories. If they go, they go. Regardless or not if you remember the joke, or the laugh, the moment was still had, and that's not nothing.
Outside of unbridled or unhindered conversation, Art is the easiest vehicle to get that dose of the infinite. For me, celebrating the best of humanity strikes me as the wisest possible thing i could do with my time, energy and money. Be it through film, literature, documentaries, paintings, plays, records, lectures, artist's leave a palpable piece of soul in it all. The most potent of which, in my opinion, is in live music.
Music is such a mystery. A conveyor of feeling, thought, and emotion. No matter how explicit it is intended, the result, as all good art should be, is always ambiguous, always evolving. An invisible amorphic painting of distilled feelings and emotions that colours not only the atmosphere and ambience of the spaces it fills but the moods, and perspectives of those that witness it.
Different notes and textures of sound create colours and build and build into inexplicable soundscapes that elicit and create memories in tandem with deep, striking feelings. Songs dance with ambiguity, waltzing from person to person. Sad songs can bring us the most joyful memories and vice versa. Tragic songs can become anthems of love, played at weddings, or for comfort in times of grieving. The meanings move from person to person, regardless of the artist's original intention.
The experience of live music is so powerful and wondrous it's hard to put into words. Attendees become part of the moment. You can feel the sound-wave's wash over you, join the song with your own voice, your own clapping hands, and become a tangible part of the tapestry of sound. The very real vibrations cause a striking difference than listening on your stereo or headphones.
There's something about the live experience that is unattainable by any medium. Both studio and live recordings are entirely different forms of art. No matter our attempts we can never fully replicate the feeling of live music in film, vr, or on record. Our microphones simply can't capture that hidden element, the ambience of other people, the excitement peppering the air, the hidden, invisible unifying tones. Something profound and temporary is being built within the feelings of the vibrations.
Concerts tower above any other live event. While sports, plays, comedy and improv sets are all spectacular in person, the valley between their documentation and the real experience isn't as vast as it is between the experience of musical recitals and recordings. Outside from the ambience of an arena, sports are generally better and easier to watch on screen (indeed you'll see many attendees craning their necks to the jumbotrons rather than watching the actual games). The capture of plays has resulted in our modern film industry which has taken the art of performative storytelling to dizzying heights. While plays are still an incredible, artful spectacle, watching tapes of past performances convey much of the same awe. The camera’s lens has brought a new level of immersion, allowing viewers to see actor’s tiniest facial finesses. The way we can manipulate how our cameras capture light adds a whole other dimension of unspoken storytelling and depth. Film tinting, and colour correction create images that often overshadow what would have been observed through the naked eye.
In terms of live experiences comedians sit the closest to musicians. i would argue that live comedy stands heads and shoulders above recorded sets. The reverberation of laughter within a room is infectious, and jokes funnier because of it. Almost more than in concerts the play between audience and performer is an integral part of the performance.
In concerts, and comedy, the difference live is the danger. A single flaw, or mistake, can result in the complete destruction of the illusion. It's not the same as losing a game, that is an accepted expectation in the spectacle of sports. These crafts however, rely on a shared spell between audience and performers. The song ends and vanishes, and what was so abundant is now nothingness. Between its beginning and end is rife with wild suspense and tension as the artists not only hold the suspended piece, but craft it. The room for error is as enormous as the elation of success is pungent.
That doesn't mean that all live concerts are the same calibre or achieve equal results. While there is still something special about electronic based sets, DJs, pop artists and rappers lose a lot of the magick relying on pre-recorded backing tracks. This doesn't mean that all artists in these aforementioned genres do this but there is a large difference from a live drummer, to a live drum machine, to a pre-recorded file in the sound-waves that fill venues. Close, but different.
In a similar way we find there is a subtle, though paramount, difference between each and every performance. No matter if you are returning to the same venue, on the same day, to watch the same artists perform the same songs in the same order with the same instruments. There's always miniscule differences. The tension of drum skins, widths of a guitar string, tuned the same but with a different amount of wear and tear, a millimetre of difference on the dials of the amps, the difference in each player's mental and emotional headspace for each performance- it all lends to the magick. A surreal concoction, with the slight danger of it all falling to pieces sitting atop as garnish. Part of the allure is watching artists fend off the chaos of the moment, a string breaking, a battery pack dying, a microphone failing, a performer tripping over a cable midsong, catastrophic distraction from a fan fuels the moment. As a collective the audience and players are obliged to relinquish control and experience the moment together. Like a shooting star, each song only happens once that way. From show to show, something always changes despite how much work some artists do to replicate them. Heraclitus' truth echoes: No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man.
My life has blossomed from the thousands of live performance's i have witnessed, and participated in. i can still remember the songs, the feelings, the relief. Live music has helped me live a life worth living. Educating me, helping build friendships, bringing purpose, direction, and refining my appreciation for art, craft, humanity, and passion. i've learned the value of the moments and feelings that build our lives. Yes, there's many ways to make memories, but few are as powerful as hordes of strangers celebrating the memories, lives, and feelings of others. Simultaneously relishing in the sounds and vibrations of their favourite songs, favourite artists.
In the end, i was there. It only matters so long as i remember it. Spend the money, go the distance, dance, sing, shout. It's your life, and it's happening live right now. You best make sure the volume is as loud as you want it to be so you don't miss a second.
Thanks for reading
-Mr Write