Sexeteria

Given that I've often been accused of being obsessive about music, it may come as a surprise that I've always been somewhat ambivalent about going to live shows.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy seeing a band I love in concert. And sometimes discovering a new band can be fun, too. But so often the shows are just...well, so-so. Factors conspire to make the experience less than transformative. Sometimes the sound sucks, or the band's not as good live as they are recorded, and I am disappointed and either left questioning my former belief in their talent or wondering why I didn't just stay home and listen to the CD. Or, on the opposite end of the scale, sometimes the sound is TOO perfect--SO perfect, in fact, that it sounds JUST like the CD, with no particular flair to make the performance feel live or interesting. And in those instances, too, I wonder why I didn't just stay home and listen to the CD.

Or sometimes the band seems to be going through the motions, and not caring much. I've seen some bands who make Disney animatrons look lively. Alternately, sometimes they're wasted and stumbling all over the place, which is amusing for a short while and then just gets really annoying when they can't remember how to play their instruments and nod off and end the show after 30 minutes. Sometimes it's the audience who's way too wasted and ruins an otherwise brilliant show by drunkenly shouting out stupid things at every opportunity or not knowing the difference between drunken brutality vs. actual moshing. And of course, seeing new bands I've never heard before is always a crap shoot and nine times out of ten I wonder if I might not have done better to have just stayed home and saved my money for, like...rent or something.

But sometimes, there are these incredible live music moments. Sometimes, everything comes together in this unspeakably perfect way. And then I remember why I don't entirely give up on going to shows.

I had one such experience a few days ago. A friend invited me to go see the band Elbow play live. I'd never heard of them before. Despite me being the music geek I am, and despite them having put out quite a few CDs already, they'd completely missed my radar. But after quickly checking out their website and MySpace page and listening to a few clips, I enthusiastically agreed to go. Something about their music grabbed me right away, and despite my wariness these days (based on the factors mentioned above) about paying to see bands I know nothing about, on hearing them I instantly thought "this is a band to see." I'm not even sure why, but that was the immediate gut response.

They always say you should follow your gut, and it turns out "they" are still damn well right. Because this show was easily one of the best and most remarkable live performances I've had the pleasure of seeing in a long while.

There were a number of factors that came together to make this so. First off, it turned out the show was being held in a historic synagogue right in the heart of the city I live in. A place I may have passed by dozens of times and yet have never noticed--and certainly didn't know showcased live bands. So that was the first surprise. We walked in, and were greeted with a completely gorgeous interior. A relatively intimate performance space, with beautiful antique wooden pews, carved with smooth, curved backs which were incredibly comfortable to sit in. Candelabras along the walls. Elaborate stained glass windows. And a stunning domed ceiling, painted with an intricate gold-leaf pattern and looking like a giant, semitic Fabergé egg. Just look at the photo to the right. That's what we sat under all night, evening light shimmering through the stained glass windows surrounding it, making it glow above us when the lights went low for the show. How can one not be moved to the expectancy of something great when sitting under a ceiling like that?

Even before the band started, it was clear the acoustics were going to be marvellous and that environs had an affect on the crowd. We could hear our voices amplified by the shape of the building in a way that foretold good things for a band being able to play. And have you ever noticed how when one walks into a beautiful place, one is naturally awed by it and wants to be beautiful IN it? Your behavior changes; you grow happier, more careful in how you treat yourself and others. You try to drink it all in and you look at your neighbors, both of you wide-eyed and say, "Isn't this amazing?" And then you smile and feel lucky. You don't want to let that feeling go. That's what it was like.

This, I believe, was amplified by the fact that there was no alcohol available. I didn't think of it until afterward, but I think it may possibly be the first show I've ever seen where no one was drinking and where I hadn't had at least one drink. I tend to associate shows with alcohol--whether I'm drinking or it's just the smell of it all around me. None of that here. Everyone was completely sober and AWAKE; and I think this lent to wanting to keep the respectful feeling of the beauty of the space going and the whole "love thy neighbor" vibe that was going on. Plus, it let all of us REALLY HEAR the music. It was such an unusual thing, experiencing a band with a crowd that was completely unaltered. People seemed far more riveted and connected to the performance and each other. It was truly spectacular. And all this time I thought alcohol contributed to a live experience--that it wasn't rock 'n' roll without the sex and drugs aspect. So much for that fallacy.

And yet, despite the more formal decorations around us, and the lack of a dive bar atmosphere, the crowd was incredibly charged. In fact, perhaps even more charged than normal, because everything was so different and special. You could feel how special everyone thought it was, just in the air. And the feeling certainly charged the band, too. From the moment the lights came down and they were able to walk THROUGH the waiting crowd, in between the pews and toward the stage, carrying horns in arms stretched high, and then stand in a line across the stage, blowing a huge cacophony of Wall-of-Jerhico sound over the backing track belting out over the speakers, the whole performance just seemed otherworldly in its perfection. The music was flawless, a wailing wall of swirling sound--sometimes painfully yearning, sometimes heartburstingly joyous, sometimes both together. There was guitar and bass and drums and hard on male rock 'n' roll attitude, but also backing tracks and live electric violins and female backing harmonies.

And the lead singer. Oh. Between his charming gift of comfortable gab with the audience, his somewhat rough-around-the-edges Irish-English workman's face and burly body, and the unexpectedly beautiful, melodic voice that came out of it--well, I have to admit, for all my jaded history with musicians, I might have fallen just a little bit in love with him. He was just that good. By the end of the show, when he asked us to sing along with him to what may well be one of the most beautiful, simple, joyous songs ever written about waking up next to someone and suddenly realizing that you're falling in love, even shy little me, with my cynical resistance to crowd mentality, was belting out the song with all my heart and soul with everyone else around me. And it felt goooood.

And that is how it is with a show like that. I stood there, falling in love with that band I'd never even heard of four days before.

I stood there, full of first-hand knowledge that, behind the lights and the swells of sound, this world of touring bands is, on paper, not much more than cigarettes and drink and addictions and long drives and boredom and bad food and schedules, schedules, schedules and arguments with industry stooges and each other, and a never-ending stream of anonymous, brief, disconnected meetings with people you may never see again, all of whom want something from you that you are too damn tired to give.

I stood there, knowing all that, and falling in love with the world of rock 'n' roll anyway. Getting drawn in, drawn closer, feeling heaven, saying, Yes, yes, I want that.

And that is why I don't stop seeing live shows.

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A few videos below from Elbow to whet your appetite. It frustrates me to give you these, though, because they can't even remotely capture the feel or sound of their performance. This band is very good on CD, but they are, I think, one of those rare bands that's far, far better live than they even are recorded. Usually it's the opposite, so this is a rare thing. Go see them on tour if you can.

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Guy Garvey photo courtesy of Glynis_F. All other photos copyright Sexeteria.