Too Late for Beginnings
Money was tight, and stress was high. We were planning a wedding.
“I don’t care. We’re going,” she said.
I didn’t put up a fight because I like when she pushes me out of my comfort zone. I need that, because I’m incredibly adept at convincing myself I don’t need anything. I effortlessly defeat food cravings, am mostly immune to marketing, and once had a friend tell me I lived like a monk, exclusively referring to my house as “the monastery” from that point on. Plus, money was tight, and stress was high. We were planning a wedding.
On the way to the Rose Bowl, I realized the last time I’d attended a music festival as a ticket-buying spectator was about 20 years prior, and that was a very sad realization. I’d started playing festivals when I was around 18, and after my touring days ended, I sometimes visited friends who were playing them or working for bands. What this means is that I showed up late, went to whatever VIP tent I was told to go to, and got my little bracelet, then sat on an air-conditioned tour bus where I traded stories with those sitting in the lounge and exchanged hugs with various blasts from the-past as they came and went. Then I went home. I’m not proud of that. I don’t know when I turned into Larry David.
We walked through the entrance gates, and Adriana spotted the official festival merchandise, which was surprisingly cool for official festival merchandise. It was also officially expensive, and I was reminded, upon seeing the price tag, that we were officially saving for a wedding. But I missed out on 20 years of blowing money on band tees, so I said, “Hell yeah, we’re getting you a crew neck.”
The festival was an older crowd, as there were plenty of veterans on the bill. Beach House, Descendents, Le Tigre, The Strokes. Because of this, there was an excess of personal space normally not found at a music festival. I was feeling confident. I was feeling young. We were a few drinks in, the edibles had kicked in, and we were dancing to songs we didn’t know and having ourselves a time.
There was a gap between Jungle and LCD Soundsystem, so I suggested we grab two more beers and get a good spot since I knew this was the band Adriana was here to see. She’d seen them every time they’d played LA since the dawn of their existence. I knew the hits, if that’s what you can call them. And I’d mostly heard them in passing or as part of DJ sets back in New York, where James Murphy was essentially mayor in the 2000s. But I wouldn’t have known that because I was part of the whole post-hardcore/emo thing happening at that time. NYC had The Strokes, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Interpol and LCD. The surrounding suburbs had Thursday, My Chemical Romance, Taking Back Sunday, and Saves the Day. It was all happening at once, but the two worlds hardly touched. Aside from the music video for “Last Night,” I knew nothing of what was going on in the city. I was part of the other scene. The one with questionable fashion sense and problematic frontmen.
The lights dimmed and the band walked on, one by one. Their percussionist started playing a very nondescript (to me) rhythm on wood blocks. “Your city’s a sucker! Let’s go!” said the guy next to me. Did he just guess the song 3 seconds into the percussion part? He knew exactly what was about to happen. I looked around, and everyone knew what was about to happen. I looked at Adriana, and she knew what was about to happen. I was the new guy, just trying to follow the cues.
It’d been so long since I’d witnessed the sum of parts. The result of taking a group of people who are each artists in their own right, checking their ego at the door and devoting themselves to serving a bigger picture. It’d been so long since I’d witnessed a band that felt like a living, breathing organism. Like the train could go off the rails at any moment. And how special it was to hear some of these songs for the first time in my life, so now every time I play them, I’m immediately transported to that initial feeling of discovery. I knew in the moment that this was going to be like talking about your kids. You can’t tell people stories about your kids. They’re your kids. No one shares in the emotional ties that make that story interesting, funny, or heartwarming. You can’t explain those feelings. You’ll sound weird. People will wait for you to stop talking because you’re annoying them. That’s what this show was to me. I shouldn’t even be writing about it.
Last week, we saw LCD Soundsystem for the third time since that festival. It’s dangerous to try to recreate an experience, so I instead wiped the slate clean and had no expectations. There’s no wedding to plan for. But there was an election. Holidays are here. Life is still doing its best to see how much I can take. So, I stood beside Adriana and lost myself in the architecture of the Hollywood Palladium. I said a quiet prayer that they never turn it into an apartment complex. The teenage couple in front of us made out for 35 minutes straight, right up until the lights came down and the band took the stage, one by one. James Murphy waved a brief hello to the crowd as the drum machine loop for “Get Innocuous!” began, and my body was swallowed in the low end as I smiled ear to ear, knowing exactly what was about to happen.
Yes, you’ve likely already seen the flier many times in previous posts, but I have to put it here on the off chance that someone hasn’t seen it. Tickets for NY are very low, so grab them if you’re considering coming.
PURCHASE HERE
THE RECORD CLUB
Last week’s selection was R.E.M. - Murmur (1983)
You can find my ramblings on last week’s record in the comment section below.
This week’s selection is…
Week #18
Bonnie Raitt - Bonnie Raitt (1971)
THE RECORD CLUB THREAD
Week #17
R.E.M. - Murmur (1983)
I don't know, folks. Maybe it's the seasonal change. Maybe it's the political climate. I'm tempted to chalk it up to my own personal mental funk. This one just didn't hit for me. We intentionally went with the debut as opposed to choosing the ones with the hits, and there's plenty of the DNA found throughout the band's entire catalog - Stipe's signature lyrical style and Peter Buck's guitar playing - but it just didn't hit for me. I'm a sucker for a well crafted tune. I'm admittedly always looking for a good hook. So, I found myself longing for the later R.E.M. stuff. Still glad I took it for a spin as there were plenty of smaller moments I enjoyed.