i can't pinpoint exactly which show it was where everything clicked, but i remember the goosebumps. They call it frisson. It would happen so often. It still happens. i still chase those moments. Moments of contradiction, where i would both lose myself submerged in sound, while experiencing a simultaneous sense of heightened presence and connection as waves of chords and melodies washed over myself and audiences. We would dance, clap, and sing together, adding ourselves to the pool of song, intermingled amongst the flowing bliss of mixed vibrations. It is nirvana. A rare occurrence of unified awe and joy shared amongst hundreds, and at times, tens of thousands. Instigated by range of expression, from the sound of guitar solos, the high notes singers hit belting their hearts out, to the voice of audiences in unison, the clap of kick drums, and so on. The complex, unadulterated, transcendent, sound of life, achieved by living it.
Be Here Now.
Ram Dass's infinite wisdom distilled down to three succinct words. A lesson that has been reaffirmed continually over and over across my lifetime. To, not only, be present in the current moment, but enjoy it. Whatever that may be, traffic, dessert, a shower, a conversation. Down to the exact split second. To this exact moment. This moment as i type this, as you read this. Without waiting for the next sentence, the next line, the next meal, the next song, for a breeze, a friendly text, for someone to arrive, or an upcoming show. To find the joy in the aches and pains, in the suffering of want or expectation, in the euphoria of simply sitting, standing and breathing. In mundane unnoticed pleasures like the air across your nostrils and lips. The connections with your deepest self are always resting beneath the surface of any, and every, instance. In this moment, as with every other, we are connected with the all, with each other, and it's important to do our best to remember that as much as it is to lose ourselves within it.
The greatest reminder, and hack, to these moments of bliss that i have found, has not been through meditation, but through art. Specifically, the live performance of art. The combination of the visual stimulus of lights, the outfits, the expressions of the players, the participation of the audience, mosh pits, dancing, the orchestrated dynamics of emotions, and overall ambience of the rooms all add up to an immediate immersion of attention. The unique and overwhelming experience of the vibrations from performances can shake our perceptions and bridge a shortcut connecting the self and the all. Going to live shows, bearing witness to such temporary and profound spectacles, accepting the imperfections, the disappointment of favourite songs not being played, embracing the friendships and comradery between strangers, nodding your head to beat, chanting for more, are all avenues, are all vehicles.
The effect of these experiences has been resounding. Both in the moment and in memoriam. Even in the throes of deep depressions, and heartbreak, the power of humanity, other people's stories, and artistic emotional expressions could always bring me to shore. Sometimes for only the duration of a performance, sometimes a single song, sometimes the wave would carry me for days. For someone drowning, even a few minutes where you can catch your breath can make all the difference. Not only have these shows been an honour to witness, enjoy, and take part in, but the memories have lasted me my lifetime. Their impact has helped me stay positive in the biting chaos of life, and are a pleasure to relive while listening to recordings or in conversation. A great investment in the short time that we have alive.
If i had to guess when it all sank in, i'd say it was outside of a live experience. It had to be reliving memories. i can specifically remember being in a car returning from the Summer Sanitarium tour in Seattle, lost in a daze of thoughts. It was August, 2003. i was fifteen. The excitement of driving to another city, in another country, and watching the same phenomenon i'd witnessed a handful of times before happen again had my adrenaline and imagination pumping. That night i had seen legends perform. i had sang songs i loved amongst a crowd of sixty-eight thousand. These cherished moments echo still, profound even now, over twenty years later. i can remember the thunders of the kick drum, the awe of the performances, the shock of the pyro, the people i met, the disbelief of seeing my favourite bands only a few feet away from me. i remember thinking that of all the places in the world that i could be, of all the things i could be doing, i am so happy to be right here, right now. And when i reflect back, i still feel it, the dazzle, and satisfaction of a perfect evening.
The thought had such an impact that from that day forth i would stop at nothing, travel any distance, to see as many artists i loved as i could. To celebrate their work, their achievements, their songs. If shows sold out, i'd sneak in, jump fences, deke out security guards, and sing my heart out. i love going to concerts in other countries, in foreign cities. There are so many nuances to be found in different live experiences. How performances change as musicians grow in popularity and fame, home town shows, club shows, secret shows, career defining headlining sets, reunions, anniversaries, break ups and farewells. For better or worse, there is so much that can colour a show.
When i was nineteen, and living in London, i had systems for which shows i would go to based on how i understood how media cycles in North America and Europe. For example, British publications like NME and Kerrang came out biweekly, therefore had twice as many covers to fill as opposed to monthly magazines across the pond like Rolling Stone, and Spin. For North American groups this was a huge opportunity to increase their popularity in both markets. There was a tangible difference in performances when artists were trying to impress the English press. The amount of covers to fill also meant local artists could skyrocket in popularity in the UK, which while it was exciting, made it hard and expensive to see new critical darlings. Where as when these groups toured North America their acclaim and hype more appropriate for that of new artists cutting their teeth on the road. They still needed to grind things out on long tour cycles to small half filled venues. i was able to catch Amy Winehouse and the Arctic Monkeys up close at sparsely attended, but by all means incredible, sets by paying attention. The inverse was also true, by following what was happening in the America's i could see groups that were selling out arena residencies only months before in intimate, half filled clubs in Soho .
Live shows are like shooting stars, and sunsets. Always different, always worth making an effort to witness, and once missed, never to return the same way again. i worked extra shifts for tickets, i snuck into venues when i needed to because i couldn't bear to miss such occurrences. Because i am awed by the effort, the emotion, the personality of the art, and the collaboration of the artists. The efforts were all worth it. One of the most memorable show's i've ever witnessed was a secret show, in a smaller tent by an enormous group, that i am not really a huge fan of. It was packed, a hassle to get to, and they were incredible. The volume of the audience singing along drowned out the sound coming from the stage, i’ll never forget it.
And you can hear about it all. While it was a little rushed due to an unexpected, and impending deadline to submit shows of this variety, i have both completed, and released i wuz there (a Spotify exclusive memoir/radioshow/podcast which unfortunately requires the app to listen to- because it includes songs from each artist played), the chronological story of all the shows i've ever seen. It was such a pleasure to relive the memories, and pay tribute to the artists and the kind people that opened the doors so i could appreciate them. My heart is filled with gratitude for the life i have lived, and the experiences that have decorated it. In regards to the incredible performances' i've somehow been allowed to be present for, it has truly been an honour. i hope this modest homage brings some balance, and that somehow, my work provides you with even a tenth of the surreal transcendence that these other artists have provided me.
It's a difficult task, to remember that you are here, i am here, and life is happening right now in this instance, never to return again in the same way. Harder still to appreciate the astounding beauty in that. Despite however flawed we may find the current moment, whether it's rainy, or you're in physical discomfort, or experiencing something wonderful, chewing food, laying in the Sun, singing to a loved one on their birthday (however you may feel about that experience). Find solace in something. Find awe and gratitude in everything. It's all here. It's all there is. i hope you check out the accompanying (and incredibly self indulgent) show, i wuz there. And more than that, i hope you're inspired to check out some live music, be it a touring artist at a smaller venue in your town, or some local acts playing in a basement DIY (do it yourself) space. Or, better yet, pick up an instrument and start your own group that i can one day watch. i look forward to seeing you in the pit.
Find links to each batch of episodes for i wuz there on the radio//podcast page, or binge them all directly on Spotify now!
Be excellent to each other...
Wazoo!
-Mr. Write