An Open Letter to Trans Am (the band, man!)

Trans Am… the band that spawned my personal exodus into going to shows alone… There were several shows in a row where they played the old King’s (off McDowell St) in late 1999 and through 2000… the first time I wanna say someone went with me…. maybe Jeff, my old boss at Record Exchange, maybe my best friend’s brother (as he is the one who introduced me to the band)… but I do know that after the initial time I saw them, there were a couple more shows where I asked folks to go with, no one seemed interested, but I refused to miss their live show because I was so smitten with their sound.  I went to the next shows on my own, stood right in front of Nate’s monitor and had my hair blown back by that incredible wall of sound. I was a post-rock junkie before I even knew the genre had a name. I used to call them “math rock” because I couldn’t think of anyway else to classify them.

One of my most profound and prominent show memories of all time happened at one of these Trans Am shows at old King’s, wherein I went solo; during the song Home Security (I think, if not then maybe Am Rhein?), someone broke a string… I think Phil was playing bass… and while he went off stage, Nate continued on synth and Seb rocked one of the most hardcore and intense drum solos I have, to this day, ever heard in my life. I believe this went on for a solid 10 minutes until Phil came back on stage. And beautifully, I think there were about 14 of us in the audience. To this day, I have to say, that Seb Thomson is probably one of the most intense and talented drummers I have ever seen live.

Ok help on this one…? This was also the show where Seb’s side project band opened – it wasn’t weird war or publicist or anything… I bought the cd and listened to it a lot, but I can’t remember and Google searches are fruitless. I swear I thought they were called like… “Foundation” or maybe even "champs" or something like that… This show was also the first time I got up the balls to go and talk to a band after their set. I spoke with all three of the guys in the band at different points and was elated. I was also 22ish years old; keep in mind.

The last time I saw them was at 506, 6 or 7 years ago… I don’t remember because bands that have amazing shows in Raleigh always seem to get smothered with bad vibes in Chapel Hill. (sorry, chapel hill; you stink... i.e. – every future islands show I have seen at (new) King’s or Lincoln here in Raleigh is the best show ever; every time I have seen them in Carrboro, it’s been awkward and non-raging. Carrboro suppresses rock, which is ironic on many levels..... Merge?? WTF??.)

I am now learning the glorious majesty of Spotify. Bless whoever it is that rounded out the full TA collection on there; I sometimes spend all day running through the entire discography, repeating songs like "Polizei / Zu spät" over and over again (bitte … ah… bitte…ah) and every time I find myself on another listening spree, I think about that night with the drum solo and I say to myself “DANG...! WHEN ARE THEY TOURING AGAIN??” I know they are all doing other things, but the thrill jockey site at the moment says something about 3 or 4 shows in California coming up. Surely they can add one more date in Raleigh.(note: the thrill jockey site also has an email address for Nate directly, to contact for booking... I wouldn't dare. however, someone else who may come across this blog post can feel free to forward it his way.)

So in conclusion;

Dear Trans Am,

Please play in Raleigh, NC again. We have a whole brand new beautiful King’s for you to play. I will not be shy about coming up to you and speaking to you this time! I will buy merch! I will hype your show up to death and try to convince everyone I know to be there! I will buy you fancy cocktail drinks at Neptune's and laud your majesty far and wide! Let’s do this!

Love, your superfan, Karla Anne

here are two youtube videos of the band live, from the same era:

Le dreamy Sigh! 

EDIT: Sudden moment of clarity - the song in which the epic drum solo/sting breakage jam session took place was "Play in the Summer"

Politeness is the flower of humanity.

I’ve only had a handful of “not cool, dude…” moments at shows. I can easily think of a few because they have stuck with me. When people are just selfish jerks at shows, I try to chalk it up to inexperience, youth, inebriation, or just ignorance… I don’t like to think that people who are just rude and lame like the same kinds of music and shows as me. I don’t want to be associated with assholes.

One of the more prominent memories of a “not cool, dude” show-moment was at Hopscotch 2011 right before Flaming Lips came out on stage. I was with a friend, had been greatly anticipating the possibility of Wayne Coyne going over my head in the big space bubble. My friend at the time had seen them previously and knew when and where to be to make this happen. The plan was to get in the right spot, let it happen and then back away. Yes, there were a lot of people, yes it was very crowded, but I think any seasoned show-goer knows, regardless of how bad you want to see a band, there is a) probably someone who wants to see them more and b) in standing room only shows, the crowd will shift. You will most likely not end a show in the same place you started. 

My friend and I, in an attempt to position ourselves in a generally decent path of the bubble trajectory, moved across the crowd. So traditionally, one would think, Flaming Lips fans would be pretty cool and chill. The crowd was dense, yes, but many people were shuffling. My friend and I were moving stage left and were met by an immobile steel wall of a 5’6” 20-something year old kid and his girlfriend (I am closer to 6’ than not, my friend was well over 6’2” – we were not intimidated). When we tried to squeeze past he literally leaned back and put his legs in front of me and spat something vile like “don’t be a fucking asshole, asshole!” and I was like …”bro. dude. Chill.”…and tried to move a little more behind him. he pushed back further and said something like “people like you ruin shows by rushing the stage!!!” and I sighed and said something like, “do you not see me moving across stage not pushing forward? My sister is over there, I need to get to her, please.” I, obviously, do not have a sister, but who cares. Kid spits back something like “fuck you!” and my taller than thou hippie friend, bound and determined to get me in position didn’t even respond at that point and simply leaned in full force and pushed dude a foot to the right and let us squeeze past. We moved away, a good 20 feet away from where this guy was, because that’s where we were headed … Just… not cool. I knew that guy wanted to see the show, too. good for him, but we were, at that point, not anywhere close to the stage, not anywhere close to the bubble-trajectory and still several moments from the show even starting. Fuck that kid, I got my video anyway. 

officially crossed this one off my Bucket List

Another similar situation happened at the Cat’s Cradle when I took Jess to see Drive By Truckers earlier this year. The show was not, by my standards, too overly crowded, so I thought it would be good for Jess to be front-ish and see his heroes live for the first time. There was really trashy, middle-aged, redneck chick down front that had claimed several foot of space not only for her person but for dancin’ room. When I tried to guide Jess towards the front she raised holy hell and practically attacked us for ruining her show experience. I grabbed her by the upper arm and spoke right in her ear and told her to chill out, let my boyfriend be up close for one song because he’d never seen them before and not to be so rude. This was, apparently, redneck-ian for “I want to fight you” because she kinda came at me. I held my hands up at her and said as best as I could “not cool, dude.” We stepped around her and moved away. You can’t reason with crazy. Especially drunk redneck crazy.

One time when I saw Future Islands at King’s, I had a girl scream at me and about 5 other people that we were being “disrespectful” to the band for dancing up front. Really? Had she ever even see Future Islands before?

Add to the list of total unabashed douchery pretty much any “hardcore” or “punk” show I have ever seen in Chapel Hill. Because traditionally dudes at like, say the 506, for hardcore shows are totally disrespectful towards women.

The inspiration for this post comes from a show I saw at King’s Saturday night, which I plan on making a separate post for entirely, because I don’t want any negativity to pop up in a review of a show that was 99.999% amazing and was only tainted momentarily by rudeness. At the very end of El Ten Eleven’s set I was practically shoved to the ground by a kid attempting to grab the set list out of my reaching hands. When I pleaded with him to let me have it, as I had been hoping for months and weeks to add it to my collection (I collect set lists, as many of you know) I was met with utter rudeness and it pissed me off. But the anger didn’t linger, as I later got to meet and speak with both Kristian and Tim and that is probably better anyway. I’ll post pics when I post about that show.

TL;DR:

If someone is very much, obviously, a superfan let them be. Give them their few minutes down front or let them act a fool. Unless, for some reason, you feel that your superfandom trumps theirs, in which case you should make friends with this person anyway and make plans for a “front and center” timeshare plan for the next time you see this band, because obviously you have something in common.

There is never any reason to get angry at someone because they want to see a band really bad. Especially at a smaller venue like King’s or Cat’s Cradle. I paid my $12 just like you, let’s be reasonable here. It’s not like these incidents I have experienced were all at mosh-tastic skinheads shows, for god’s sake.

Getting pissy at a show? Not cool, dude. Take a breather, let the drunk girl “woo!” and dance in front of you for a song or two and then wait for her to wander off. It’s gonna be okay.

The Heart is a Bloom

i AM IRRITATED WITH MYSELF.

I haven't been to any shows in a long time.  I went to LBLB with Roo (of course) a couple weeks ago in an attempt to see Leugo, but was so distracted by actually being out and about that i forgot to watch the shows (of course). Not so soon after, I wandered up to King's to see some low-fi deepthrashmetal band I have actually never even heard of, but i got in for free, so i went. and everyone was wearing black. and i was wearing a bright white U2 WAR shirt (of course). so I felt slightly out of place before suddenly realizing it was after midnight and i had to be up for work the next morning and bolting.
then i was sitting here on a Saturday night with $7 in my checking account and listening to my morrissey pandora station, feeling slightly sorry for myself, re-reading past entries and being frustrated with myself for not going to more shows. i miss shows.

then i had this crazy revelation. Imagine...! imagine if i had been writing reviews since the beginning; I was 15 years old the first time i saw U2 in 1992 when the Pixies were the opening act. And you know, in a weird way, i almost did. I have been a writer my whole life, to be honest. I made a list the moment we got home and stuck it inside the $25 ZOOtv program i bought that night in Hampton, VA and entitled it "THINGS I WILL NEVER FORGET ABOUT TONIGHT" ... there were things like "the screaming pixies guy" and "the guys with the big papier-mache heads wandering through the crowd before the show" and "BP Fallon in the Trabant before the show" and "the guy on the bus on the way home that kept softly calling out the "woo-woooooo"'s from BAD". I don't know why i felt it necessary to write that list, i apparently have a memory like a steel trap. i could tell you pretty much 99% of the occurrences, start to finish, of that whole evening despite the fact that, yes, it was 20 years ago.

and i'm suddenly realizing I've been a super duper mega-ultra U2 superfan for 20 years.... NICE. *self-high-five*

SO... I'm listening to the Moz Pandora, and we got a little "disappointed" popping up right now and I start thinking about wow... what if i had known what to do back then? If i had known that i could have written this sort of thing instead of hoarding NMEs and Selects and Spin magazines? I saw moz for the first time in 1995 at the Ritz (now Disco Rodeo) in Raleigh. he played three or so songs before storming off stage because of his discontent with the security at the show. (he said "Gently, Gently... It's not World War Three" before walking off stage. le sigh!) I was not disappointed. I was a weepy mess. I am a morrissey-cryer. He comes out, I sob like a baby until he walks away. that's how it goes. I have seen him several times since, including Dublin, Ireland, and the same thing happened... weepy mess.

So If i start listing it all out, from the early onsets of Raleigh's own Johnny Quest, to Elbow, or Moz, or James, or Tricky, or Beck, or Moby... If I really let myself think about it; i may not have the world's most impressive resume, you know? I don't have a degree from a super prestigious school and I've been in mostly administrative accounting positions for the majority of my adult career... but, man oh man, if you start listing out the shows... the bands... the amazing shows I have seen... the incredible musics that have gone in these slowly failing ear-holes, I do not know many who can top it, except my baby boomer friend at work who went to Woodstock... The ORIGINAL Woodstock. bad-ass.

So here is my idea. I am going to list out a few shows. Some real goodun's that I've had the absolute privilege to see, and let you guys vote, via comments as to which 'blast from the past' review i shall write for my next review. bearing in mind however, unless i find shit online, there will be no pics or proof of my attendance. it will be strictly a first person narrative and you will have to assume i really went. I am promising you now... I did.

here are the choices:

Midnight oil and Ziggy Marley - 1992
Johnny Quest - 1991
Hopscotch fest year one
Hopscotch fest year two
El Ten Eleven - 2011
Lollapalooza - circa 1995/1996
YES - 1992
OK GO - 2010
The Who - 1993
Major Lazer/Rusko - 2010
U2 - 1992, 2005, 2009 - (will probably be a MEGA post, whichever one, if not all. which i would happily do, btw)
Celine Dion - 2009 (HA!! FOR REAL!!)
David Byrne - 2001, 2009 and like, a few other times i can't think of right now.
Vienna Teng - 2010
Ozomatli - 2010 (includes real good heartbreak story and awesome video)
Muse - 2010
Any others you're thinking of you know I went to and I'm forgetting right now... bring it on... mama loves a challenge.


(ps - re-watching all kinds of U2 vids from shows i went to on the youtubes, getting all kinda sentimental... so if i can sway any sort of "vote", imma tell you right now; you want real me/all passion... pick the U2sers.... http://youtu.be/87Xl5GAzuBo - YOU GUISE.)

The Chas Diaries

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Entry 49

Gray Young opens for Goner Kickstarter Party at Kings with Kutchma. Room is sparse, but show is profound; new songs again. Need new album immediately. Post declaration on facebook that he is, in fact, my Raleigh-Bono.

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Entry 51

Chas Dream #27: 

I am at a flea market type party at some hotel. All the rooms are set up with different “stores” and my friends are the vendors, selling handmade jewelry and such. I am on a large patio of one of the rooms at a big table with Sandra from Landmark and J9’s boss, Jennifer. We are drinking wine and laughing at something. It is nighttime. Jess and I had apparently had a fight, he walks over to me with a laptop and says he has a present for me to apologize and pushes play on a YouTube video; it is him playing piano and singing a Billy Joel song (She’s Always a Woman) the camera angle pans out and sitting beside him at the piano is Chas. His present to me is to sing a Billy Joel duet with Chas. I feel my face catch on fire and my heart starts pounding. I look up from the screen and Jess has wandered off drunk somewhere, but Chas is standing there. I am panicking. It starts to rain so I stand. Chas holds out a hand to me, I close my eyes and take it. We start running. We collapse under a balcony under a room at the end of the property and are sitting on pine straw. He lies back with his arms behind his head while I sit rigid, Indian-style. We do not speak. I untie his shoes. I wake up.

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Entry 59

He was working the counter at the coffee shop today; I managed to order my coffee without dropping anything, speaking gibberish or bursting into flames… Oh god.

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Entry 60

Dan posted this photo on his facebook today of The Boys recording the new album. Instantly changed my iphone wallpaper. 

Had brilliantly hilarious idea for a blog post that could be misconstrued as completely insane if one was not able to gauge my sense of humor. 

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Entry 62

He came into my part time job and ordered a burrito... hyperventilated for approximately 15 minutes. Had to explain to coworkers in Spanish that he plays in a band and I really like the band. My girls at work start calling him "tu corazón" ... your heart. 

Dios mío. 

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Entry 63
Weesefest at Big Boss. He is not wearing Chucks, life doesn't make sense anymore.

 

Dopko invites me to stand behind the drum kit to watch the show. The day is a success. Later, in a fangirl daze as Chas steps into the crowd for a solo, I reach up to touch a drop of sweat on the tip of his nose. He looks furiously irritated... Died a little.

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Entry 64

Permission from boyfriend granted to post a potentially mortifying, yet unjustifiably self-amusing blog about being a super-fan to an amazing band and having a debilitating fandom crush on a boy from my hometown that I have refused to speak to for the past two years.

Thomas Stearns, Igor Fyodorovich and Karla Anne.

Everyone has some sort of mental problem these days. If you don’t have a mental problem and aren’t on some sort of psychotropic medication to treat some anxiety or depression disorder, then you have a gluten allergy or a lactose intolerance… No one is normal anymore. No one sleeps well and feels pride in their hard day’s work. No one has enough money and everyone has something to complain about. I, for one, have a lot of mental problems. I haven't ever been real shy about that fact. I have mostly dealt with Panic Disorder for the majority of my teen and adult life; and as anyone who has an anxiety disorder; you get the added bonus of an underlying depression issue. You get all down and out about being scared all the time. Again, not anything I’ve ever been really shy about; as more than evident by my facebook status updates, ancient livejournal posts or even via this blog.

At the moment, I am in a red-alert/stage 3 depression cycle. Depression, in case you didn’t know or have never experienced it, is a sneaky bastard. Anxiety is easy; you are in an elevator, you are scared of elevators, you have an anxiety attack, you know what that is.. Action/Reaction – Analyze/Confirm. Depression…? You have about a week and a half of not eating well, barely sleeping, wondering why you are crying at baby food commercials and then you realize … oh, I might be in a depression cycle. It sucks because you are sometimes so far in it you don’t really know how to get out of it. Anxiety…? Take a valium. Depression…? Wait it out...? Maybe…? There aren’t a lot of options.

How this all relates to music, you may ask. I am, as I said, currently at one of the lowest points of my whole life that I can let myself even remember. Sucks, yeah. I know. So after a week or two of lying around on my couch feeling sorry for myself, I am trying to baby step my way back into the land of the living by doing the only one or two handful of things I know have worked in the past. In this instance; writing. Depression makes everything grey… Lackluster… Nothing is shiny, nothing sounds good, and nothing tastes good. Nothing feels good. No TV show or movie is funny enough, no song is meaningful enough, and no book is interesting enough to read. No crossword puzzle is challenging enough to make you feel accomplished. So maybe, just maybe, if I keep plugging away at this, doing the one thing I know I have the slightest bit of confidence in myself left about, writing, then maybe it might kick something off.

I haven’t been to shows. I haven’t really been interested in being social. I have been crabby and weepy and overly clingy to my boyfriend and my best friend and then feeling guilty about how much I “need” them at the moment. I post on facebook and instantly remove statuses because I’m worried it will worry people. This morning, I found myself quoting TS Eliot and then realized I was at my own personal “stage 3 Depression” and I found myself defining what that meant. And I decided the only way I really know how to relate this to anyone, especially any of those who follow my blog and know it is all music related, is through the music I chose to listen to when I am down. I will now break down for you the three stage karla- depression levels as they correlate to my iPod playlist.

Stage One

Not too bad, kinda bummed. This usually kicks in every two weeks in those last days before payday when I find myself unable to afford cups of coffee or smokes and then I think “I am too old for this living paycheck to paycheck bullshit/I am such a failure at life to still be struggling like this”. Then I play a lot of say… quasi-inspirational… U2 songs, some Peter Gabriel, some Kate Bush… Then I get paid then I feel better because I can afford to put gas in my car. All is well. Stage One Depression is most common, most easily defeated by Achtung Baby or The Sensual World and doesn’t stick around very long.

Stage Two

Or as I like to call it “Morrissey: Threat-level Zero”… If for any reason some additional stressor hits while I am in the throes of stage one, I am very easily nudged into stage two. This can most likely occur with the added factor of romantic or health problems. If the BF and I get in a tussle or my Ménière's starts acting up, then I start getting real vocal about the depression. This is when I start telling people “I’m just feeling kinda down” and I post a lot of mopey Moz shit on my facebook. I may find myself overplaying certain Elbow or Explosions in the Sky albums to myself whilst staring off into space in the middle of sitting at coffee shops trying to do puzzles and zoning out. I’m never really sure how I get out of this one. I never seem to know I am out of it until I just am. I suddenly find myself not playing Morrissey as much as more and more Talking Heads or Björk shows up on my iPod and then it’s gone.

Stage Three

I’ve only been here like, three times in my whole life. Not really down with going into the first instance, but the second instance was when I found out I had Ménière's Disease and I was going to be dizzy the rest of my life and eventually lose my hearing and I got really down on myself and spiraled out of control. It was one of those feeling like I was standing on a mountain of shit and everything I loved was on fire around me and I was shaking my hand at God with whatever last ounce of fight I had left in me and screaming “oh yeah God?! What else you got?!” (A la Lt. Dan on top of the shrimp boat, perhaps?) And then I got struck with lightening and I felt my soul just lie down and give up. The only thing that saved me then was my therapist.

Years go by, literally this was oh…. 4 years ago I went through all that; I thought for sure I knew what to do if I ever got here again. And it didn’t click. It tricked me again. The mountain of shit was piling up higher and higher and I didn’t realize I was drowning in it until it all caught on fire. And this time I didn’t even bother to shake my fist at God, I just lied down and if I floated on top of the burning shit of my life and somehow made it to some tolerable Ararat of the soul, cool. If not, so be it. I can’t fight it anymore.

For the past few weeks I haven’t listened to anything, really. Haven’t been to any shows, even those I was thrilled to see. Haven’t bought tickets to shows. Haven’t really posted any videos to facebook. Haven’t cared enough. That’s the last stage of the depression. When you don’t care enough to tell anyone how bummed out you are anymore. You just lie down on the floating pile of burning shit and assume everyone is sick to death of you crying wolf and will just let you go this time.

I really thought I was there this time.  Didn’t have anything left to hear that could reach me, anything left to inspire me. No one left to fight for me. Couldn’t listen to any U2 because I didn’t feel like I deserved it. Couldn’t listen to Morrissey because it felt patronizing. But there was something. There was one thing. I had always believed it was Oscar Wilde and/or Bono who could always reach me. This morning, after one of the absolute worst weekends of my life, barely commutative and practically planning my own funeral service, I remembered…

There was a poet. There was a composer.

There was one last poem. 

Between the conception

And the creation        

Between the emotion 

And the response 

Falls the Shadow 

Life is very long

There was one last piece of music.

And now, this morning, I am remembering the Guernica. Kandinsky and Nijinsky. Plath and Emily Dickinson. Philip Carey’s self-deprecating love for Mildred. Heathcliff’s plea for Cathy to haunt him. And as always; my dearest Toulouse-Lautrec. And the madness. The spark that can only come from the most silent darkness. The flame that can only come from a dying soul. How insanity may be the only true inspiration of the greatest of men.  

And then I wrote this and I kept going. I am not the greatest of men. I may never be. I may die drowning in my own mediocrity and run-on sentences. Yet I suppose, until then, I will keep writing. And maybe you’ll keep reading and maybe one day something I said will give you the strength to go on that Igor Stravinsky and TS Eliot gave to me this morning.

Drive By Truckers at the Cat's Cradle - 04/19/12 (Happy Birthday, Jess!)

Sometimes it feels like the only thing in the world I want people to understand about me is how big of a U2 fan I am; the fact that everything I feel like I am or understand about life, God and the universe is somehow expressed by the work of U2. Or by my utter obsessive love of U2. I am the U2 Superfan. (Well, the biggest U2 superfan I know, after my buddy Shareef and his late BFF, Doobie, bless him.) So I relate to other superfans. I love superfans, regardless of the band they are in love with, no matter how much I do or do not love their music. I can enjoy any show… ANY show... if I am surrounded by the right people and I am absorbing their passion and I get all wrapped up in the love. It is addictive. This is why I seek the superfans out, even if it’s a LBLB and 4 people are in the audience, if I can be near the one guy that loves that freakin’ band, it’s worth it for me.

So Drive By Truckers… this was a rare and beautiful experience for me for 2 reasons: First, the easy answer: this entire audience was comprised of Superfans. I don’t think there was one person on site there by happenstance or for shits ‘n’ giggles. I’d estimate that this show was a very distinctly well thought out and religious pilgrimage for a good 98% of the audience. The room was full of people that god damned LOVE Drive by Truckers… Ambiance Jackpot!

Next, my sweetass boyfriend, Jessup, is a DBT superfan. I hadn’t realized quite how much until I dropped him stage-front in Carrboro. There had been clues here and there; a story or two about what a song reminded him of. The fact that the majority of the time when I’d walk in the door and his Pandora was fixed firmly on the DBT channel. The random Sunday afternoon when we’d gotten drunk at Olive Garden and he sequestered me to the futon in his office and decided that since I had made him like Morrissey, he was going to make me love DBT and then he sang along to every song. When I saw they were coming to town (or to Carrboro, close enough,) 3 days before his birthday, I thought it would be a pretty good birthday present idea, but I had no idea it would be like; BEST IDEA EVER.

Side note: I “saw” DBT last year at Hopscotch, (aka, Selma, Anne, Claire and I got real drunk in the plaza and pretended to have a hoedown and subsequently wound up on the N&O website.) this was 3 days before I met Jess for the first time, who was sitting outside the Big Easy, not two blocks from me, listening to the band. Delicious Irony.

Pre-Jess DBT Danceparty. Who knew?

Jessup and I headed into town a little early to pre-game at the Station and then headed over in time to get some brews, mingle with other Superfans (of which, as I said, there was nothing but,) and catch Megafaun. As Megafaun was playing, Patterson Hood steps out of the hallway near the board, where we were standing. I leaned over to shake his hand because Jess was too shy. I then shook hands with Jess so he could shake his hand by-proxy. It was kinda loud in there, but I can only assume he Squee’d.

do not let his slighty-drunken apathetic face trick you, HE IS PSYCHED

Hanging with another Superfan, this guy + Jess = BFF (I forgot his name, dammit!)

Megafaun I’d seen before; good guys. I dunno. I’m not so much the Alt-country buff. Then DBT hit the stage and dear god, these people love these guys. Jess LOVES these guys. I saw a whole other side of him all of a sudden. Singing along to every song, grinning like a fool. One beer, one arm in the air majority of the songs. About 3 songs in, I realize what’s happening. I am seeing a new Jess; I am falling in love with a new Jess. My boyfriend is a superfan, too. OMG. Such good news! So I know what I have to do, because Jess is a sweetheart and very shy; I grab him by the shirtsleeve and push through to the front for a song or two. And there he was… right where he needed to be; right up front in front of his favorite band with his new best friends, united in superfandom. I eventually backed out of the crowd to let him be with the people that loved them most. His people. I found myself wanting to kiss and grope him incessantly because I was falling all in love with him again, but that wasn’t where he was. He was rocking the fuck out… so I wandered around a bit and let the fans be with the fans. 

Yess's Pancake-hand up in the air

LOVE IT!

 DBT was pretty much amazing, probably one of the most perfect sounding shows I think I’ve seen at Cat’s Cradle. I don’t know if this has to do with the recent re-model of the space, or if there is a new Sound guy, or if DBT brought their own sound guy. But it sounded really good. (Note: a few days later Jess and I watched the DBT Documentary “The Secret To A Happy Ending” and I learned much more about the band and basically how they have toured almost non-stop for over a decade.) Most importantly, the feeling in the room was unbeatable. It was one of those rare shows where there was so much love and good vibes from the band and the crowd that I felt like a part of a secret club where the members are really all chill, cool dudes who have been through some heavy shit but still have the tenacity/stubbornness/just plain stupidness to carry on. I had a blast, I know Jess had an amazing time, and I’d love to see them again sometime.

One of the most special-est moments was during the first encore when Megafaun joined the band for a special cover performance of The Weight from The Band in honor of Levon Helm, who had passed away earlier that day.