To say “I have seen a lot of concerts in my day,” is probably a bit of an understatement, but there you have it. It's what I like to do. I know some people don't “get” the idea of a live show: it's too loud, it's too crowded, it's too smokey, it's too expensive, it's too much hassle, etc., and I don't disagree completely, I just pick and choose my shows judiciously, focus on the music, and try to ignore the distractions. I love going to concerts because no matter how great the band is on record, anything can happen live. Concerts are also great venues for experiencing the personality of the band as well as their music. How well do they handle fuck-ups? What do they know about performance? Does their talent extend beyond the studio? What do they look like? How do they dress? Are they having a good time when they play their music live in front of an audience. How much do they appreciate the people who have shelled out their hard-earned money to see them? Do they respect that fact? And so on.
I have lots of concert-going stories to regale you with… tonight's comes from the old 9:30 Club in Washington, DC. Not the new one—which is probably one of the best clubs in the country—but the old one that used to be located at 930 F St. NW. On this particular night four of us had gone down to see what we thought was a little known band from Manchester, England called The Chameleons U.K. My friend Paul was visiting from out of town, and although he wasn't a “big” concert-goer, we dragged him along because he liked the band too. The line in the club's sweaty, haze-filled hallway indicated we were in for a bigger crowd than we had bargained for. So much for our own little “private discovery.”
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The show was ferociously loud and aggressive. Mark Burgess, the frontman for the band, writes songs that scare me. Seriously. He scrapes raw nerves with songs about isolation and madness and soul searching in a world where hope is in short supply. But the lyrics, as gloomy as they can be, are surrounded by raw, energetic music that is both melodic and catchy as well as driving and dark. And live, in concert, all those qualities were multiplied x10. Before too long the four of us found ourselves caught-up in a seething, swaying, mass of humanity. The whole dance floor moved from side-to-side in slam-dancing unison for over an hour. It was my first real experience with “the mosh pit.” As the show neared its end, the energy in the small club began to develop an underlying sensation of violence. I can't explain it other than it felt like the music had somehow changed the audience from a crowd into a mob. Not a particularly comfortable transformation to undergo, but a fascinating one to experience.
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The level of intensity in the room was truly palpable. It was a powder-keg. A time-bomb. It would end with blood or it would end with catharsis — but before the encore there was no telling which of the two it would be. I remember taking stock of my situation while the audience screamed and stomped for more after the band left the stage in a rising wall of feedback emanating from instruments that had been dropped to the floor as they stomped off. We had been unwilling slam dancers in winter coats for the over 75 minutes and we were soaked in sweat. When the band finally took to the stage again, all four of them had stripped to the waist; their bony, pale northern English bodies were dripping as though they had just gotten back from a dip in the pool. Sweat dripped from their bodies and flew from their hair when they shook it. All night long they had entertained the audience with music from their first two LP's — holding out on one song that they must have known would just whip the audience up into an absolute frenzy. And it did. The room of people shuddered back and forth in rhythm to the driving beat. The stacks of amplifiers of the stage swayed precariously — looking like they were about to topple into the audience at any moment. I looked at Paul and his eyes were wide. “Why had we brought him here to die?”
There's no way I can fully capture the intoxicatingly frightening atmosphere that loomed that night in the club, but every time I hear this song, some of it comes rushing back in a wave. Today's Happy Medium Song of the Day is a testament to the live concert going experience. It's called “In Shreds” and it's by The Chameleons UK.
(Please use the comments box to share your thoughts.)
(Please use the comments box to share your thoughts.)