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.)

Darude - Sandstorm

After returning from "college" when i was 18, I fell into a routine of rebellion against my parents. Anything and everything i could think to do to break their rules. I had been at school, on my own, and had to come back home. I didn't want to be there, they didn't really want me there. But this was way before i had my respectful moment of enlightenment, before i really understood that they were just people who really just wanted to get some sleep and didn't want strangers in their house breaking shit and stealing stuff. so what did i do? stayed out to ungodly/unsafe hours for an 18/19 year old girl and made really poor decisions. Looking back on it now, I didn't really make any huge mistakes. I never drank at the time, maybe took a hit or two off a bong, but very rarely, definitely wasn't having sex because i was probably my biggest and most unattractive at the time... I was mostly running around seeking any sort of distraction from the burning and ever present "WHO AM I?" question (still looking, if anyone has any hints, btw,) and looking for anything to make sense in the midst of my recklessly propellant panic disorder.

In the midst of this 5 or 6 year haze, a haze i have thought so many times to document and have only succeeded in getting down a few blog and journal entries (because it is so bizarre, bewildering and painful to remember and mostly so far removed from who i am now,) I managed to find and retain some of the very best friends of my life. We would go to house parties and IHOPs and concerts. We would mostly drive around and listen to music and eat donuts and and get lost in doing absolutely nothing. Eventually everyone coupled off, found their direction in life and went back to school or got jobs, or just ... grew up. Don't mean to give a spoiler alert here, but hey, spoiler alert... I have done none of these things. I am still the one at the coffee shop all day, going to house parties and concerts and never settling on a philosophy, career, degree, routine or partner. Sometimes I feel like i dodged a bullet because I don't have to pay for day care or I'm not roped into a single career forever because that's all my education says i can do. I'm not stuck with the same one man I will resent and regret forever. Mostly I feel forgotten, overlooked, and pigeonholed... Despite all the drastic changes in my mind and body in the past few years I am almost certain I will forever be the fat girl who loved a little too hard and made terrible decisions. My wish and assumption is that there are still a handful of people who knew me then and have watched me grow and still love me, regardless. These people who adopted me and became my surrogate sisters and brothers, who I feel certain secretly watch my back and would take maybe not a bullet for me, but a punch or two.

One such person i met back in these dark days was actually someone I reconnected with from high school days... Lesley was a few years my junior and I remember her as the wild child across the gym in homeroom. Then she came to my senior prom with my friend Pete, and wound up at the after party that night. I just remember her fearlessness. I remember being jealous of it; I remember being catty and bitter about it... I remembered her for years after i graduated and then seemingly out of nowhere, she came back into my life.

Rob and I had gotten to a final bow (part I) of our relationship. I finally grew the tiniest set of balls and started granting myself a modicum of a social life. I had for a year or more, basically confined myself to the house hiding from life and from him. This, as i have learned, is pretty typical behavior of women in abusive relationships. This wasn't something he enforced in our dynamic, it was some warped decision i had made on my own. It had something to do with feeling like i was setting a good example... If i didn't go out, there was no reason he should. If i didn't drink, he shouldn't need to, etc... The guilt i carried with me for the next 10 or so years was the reason i never let myself drink. This is my theory, anyway. When I had finally gotten to the point where i was trying to stand up to him, is when things got the most destructive and violent. I had cowered in the corner for so long that when I finally stood up a little, was when shit really started hitting the fan... and the doors and the bed and the ceiling... I want to reiterate one fact however... Rob did not "keep me prisoner" or trap me into that relationship. It was my own stubborn need to "fix" him... I've honestly gone through enough therapy to understand everything that happened and have forgiven both him and myself, implicitly.

I honestly will never forget this day. and it's something I think about all the time, I have mentioned before how i am so good at appreciating miniature moments of simplicity... this was one such moment that I honestly don't think I've ever talked about it, and if i mentioned it to Lesley she probably wouldn't remember it... I had made an announcement to Rob that i was going out for the night. I just wanted to go to the coffee shop and write and read and be outside for a bit. I hadn't been in months, maybe a year or more... Rob, of course, had to come with me. (I even remember what I was wearing, a white v-neck undershirt of my father's.) I took a sketchbook and sat on the patio at Mission Valley while Rob sat in the car drinking beers, waiting for me; I had a time limit. Then, from nowhere, I look up and there is Lesley... Just as beautiful, friendly and open as she ever was. She and a handful of her friends sat with me and we chatted for a while and I was eventually invited to some house party or some night out with the crew. I agreed and we exchanged numbers. I went out with her and the people that would become my closest new friends. It was probably within the week that I finally stood up to Rob for the last time and things ended. I finally felt remembered, I felt like someone wanted me around. After 2 or more years of hiding in the bathroom and giving everything, including blood, to a person who was so enraptured with their own disease i almost ceased existing, it was such a relief to just... get outside.

I never told her this, and I don't know why and I am glad i get the chance to do so now...

Lesley, of all the people that I barely managed to hang onto throughout that time in my life, including my own family, for whatever reason, you were the one that got through to me. you were the one that gave me the strength to break free. you saved my life. I have ALWAYS credited you with that, and my love for you is so strong i don't even know how to tell you because even here, even now, 10 years later, I am fighting back tears... If you hadn't remembered me, taken a chance on talking to me; making me remember that i deserved friends and that i might still have a cool/fun person inside of me; i might still be in that place. I might have lost me completely.

There have been times I have backtracked. Times when the sorrow, pain and self-disappointment is so strong I find myself once again looking to terrible choices to numb it away or find an excuse to sit in denial and break promises. god knows why I do half of what I do, and I know I have spent my entire lifetime trying to figure out why, but you were the one person who has known me from the beginning of who i was, from that awkward goofy high school kid, to who i am now, and you have never stopped loving me or believing in the best of me. you have forgiven me for stupid mistakes and my spontaneous flakiness, you have encouraged me to take chances and dance like a wild woman. you introduced me to basically everyone i know now. you have the greatest heart and the biggest brain of almost anyone i think i know. I have so much respect for you, I sometimes feel like I want to hide things from you to keep from disappointing you, almost the way i do with my family, and for that i am sorry. I know we aren't close the way we used to be and time marches on, etc, etc... But i hope you know that I know how lucky i am to know you and have you in my life. you are my hero, you saved my life and i love you.

The reason i chose this song to represent Lesley is because I've never heard it and not thought about her, first of all. And also, I love the irony that when we became our closest, through the Raleigh Goth scene, there wasn't a Monday for many, many years we weren't at Legends and I would just love when she would convince Joey to play this song and I got to watch her do the swoop & twirl Goth dance to Darude! I remember very vividly the first time she played it for me in her creepy little basement apartment and her excitement of how much she liked it... so ironic and amazing!

Roxy Music - Remake/Remodel

When I think about Roxy Music, there is always this hesitation. It’s like, I really like them, but it took me a while to like them because I was prejudiced against them for some reason. I can remember a time when I knew the reason, but now I don’t. I do know it has a lot (everything) to do with some sort of jealousies involving my ex, Rob Roy. Whatever our relationship was, forever how long it lasted, for whatever aftermath remained, and whatever damage was done, one thing remains: Rob Roy was my musical soul mate. We spent the majority of our time playing, speaking of and buying/trading music. We both had a deep and abiding love for Britpop. I met him once briefly at a friend’s house, but then truly remember falling all over myself for him at my first Morrissey show here in Raleigh, Nov 16, 1997 at the Ritz. I then spent the next 3 or 4 years laying my soul to waste for him.

We were so off and on for so long, it’s hard to say when it all started, but we both know when it ended. We lived together so many different times and attempts, but it was the second to last time, in Cary, that we had our last big stand. It was the longest time we made it, but it was the hardest. The most damage was done then. However, I do remember one special occasion we had decided to drive all the way out to Carrboro to the Visart video store to rent music videos, because there was nowhere in Raleigh to find the kinds of concerts we wanted to see. On one occasion we rented Peter Gabriel’s Secret World Live and Roxy Music’s Musikladen, live from Bremen, Germany.

By this point, I had overcome my unfounded prejudice against Roxy Music, (save one song, to this day I can barely tolerate to hear, “Virginia Plain”. This song is so awkwardly uncomfortably bad to me. The vibrato of his voice, the tempo, I don’t know what it is, but I just straight up dislike it as a song in general.) We made a special trip to my parents’ house, who had 2 VCR’s at the time and made our own copies of these two videos before returning them to Carrboro. We spent many times of the next few weeks and months watching Musikladen. This song always sticks out.

I cannot accurately tell you the myriad of things about this song and video that please me, but i can name a few. It may be the saxophonic hijinx and acrobatism of Andy MacKay, but then again, it may be his pants of extreme excitement, with codpiece of proportionate mystery. It might be the overall bewildering Riff-Raff-itude of Brian Eno. My god. How can you love someone so much but yet be so terrified of them? It seems weird to me that I didn’t like Roxy Music for a while there, when I have such a deep Eno connection with the whole U2 thing, and all.

But i think what does it for me, what REALLY does it for me is not so much the fact that i want to do Brian Ferry six ways to sunday, (i always have, and always will, no matter how old and crusty he gets,) it just has to be the reign of fire he lashes upon us with his Rockin' Piano Hands at about 5:00. Few things in life have truly seemed as cool to me. In fact, that became a kind of private joke between Rob and I, if you misbehaved, Bryan Ferry would shoot you would his ‘Rockin’ piano hands’. We would often replay this part and pretend to fall over dead from being shot.

We had some good times.



Side note, in more recent times, this song also makes me think of the first time i met Frank Black after a show (incidentally) also in Carrboro at the Cat's Cradle which, as my livejournal confirms, was Jan 30, 2001. He covered this song that night, and I remember being super-psyched to hear it. Forever coincidentally between us, this was the first time i officially met you, although neither of us can remember and it wasn't the first time we were 'together'!

(ps - did you piece together that at this show the pixies opened for U2 and the next time we were 'together' was when you opened for Frank Black? THEN we met again because of U2... how's that for fate, sucker?)

Soul Coughing - Is Chicago, Is Not Chicago

1995. Stupid year. I was 17 going on 18. I had dropped out of college for the first time already (graduated HS at 16, btw) and was spending the majority of my barely employed, anxiety riddled, coffeeshop-supergenius days wandering aimlessly with my best friend Summer and lying around one of my newer closest friends, Josh Bradley’s, house. I’m not clear on exact dates and timelines of events around this time period of my life. I wish I could say it was because of some rockstar reason like I was so busy being wasted on drugs or doing sex to the world, when the truth is something closer to the fact that during those days my panic and anxiety was so bad, I was popping Ativans left and right and spent the majority of the ages 17 through 20 in a benzo haze. Some of you were there, some of you remember.

There are a few significant events which occurred during this time, although as previously stated, I am not entirely certain of the timeline.

- Had my first boyfriend. Frank. He is crazy (diagnosed schizophrenic at this point.) we dated about a year, I broke up with him because he was, obviously, crazy. This was about 15 years ago. He still follows me around, always finds my phone number and where I live. This is one of my Raleigh legacies of which I am the very most ashamed. I was the girl who dated frank. 15 years ago.
- Met Josh Bradley, who would become one of the most beautifully influential and greatest friends of my life, via this teenage relationship with Frank
- Spent the majority of my time with this new group of friends, who would eventually become my lifelong (so far) friends… the MLP (Meredith Lesbian Posse), hippies, punks and Goths. Josh Bradley’s, (also known as PX), house was pretty much known as the hub of all things ridiculous and awesome in the Raleigh misfit scene. Somehow we ‘freaks’ always wound up there. Me on the floor playing dj, people always wound up naked. I don’t know how to describe these days. My friends could do a better job. “Meatloaf parties” eventually somehow became the name of these gatherings.
- Met the girl who would become my truest and best friend in the whole world, my sister and duprass-mate, El Jeanniño, Queen of Casinos.
- Started working at the Courtyard, my favorite job ever. Got all my friends jobs there eventually.
- Met Rob Roy. Life came to a grinding halt as he became the center of my shit universe.

Somewhere in all of this, as stated, all social functionalities of my life revolved around Josh Bradley’s house. (Note: all of my friends have nicknames in one way or another. PX was a nickname given to Josh Bradley by himself or others, not sure. I don’t adopt other people’s nicknames; it feels like cheating, so I never called him this. Sometimes I am lazy and people’s “nicknames” become their entire names, i.e. – JennyWood, ChrisCarroll, NancyBrown [note: ironically, Nancy’s last name isn’t Brown] and JoshBradley. Just realized this group of fullname-nicknamers is all in the same circle of friends in my mind. Odd.) Every night when I would get off work at the hotel, or on free days, I would head straight to Josh Bradley’s and just… hang out with whoever was there. Even if it was just Josh and he was asleep (as he is impossible to wake up. Trust me.) One would still hang out. Many a “party” was held at Josh Bradley’s while he was sleeping.

Lots of the types of things that would happen at Josh Bradley’s were entirely dependent on who was there and how many of us there were. (Note: old timers. This at University Apts, off Avent Ferry when he lived with Rich through when he lived with Wes.) If there was a large group, there would just be lots of shit talking, chain smoking and me sitting on the floor in front of the CD player, forcing my music on others. If there was only a few there would be 12 hour monopoly marathons, French braiding of Wes’s hair, being treated to a lovely rendition of “Mike Seaver is Gay” by Josh Bradley on the bass, or basically sitting around listening to music and smoking lots of Tareytons. Back in these days, Josh Bradley was still a V-card carrier, basically as straight edge as you can get except for the Dr Pepper and Tareyton addictions, and none of us really drank or did drugs. We were lame. I think some people did. We didn’t.

These times are when I discovered a few bands that would become necessary staples in my musical diet. I don’t remember when it was, but I do know it was at Josh Bradley’s house the first time I heard Soul Coughing. (Side note, I remember exactly where I was sitting and where Josh Bradley, Summer and Evil Erich were sitting the first time I heard Ani DiFranco. Talk about a life changer!) Anywho, Soul Coughing. I hadn’t ever heard anything like them. I fell in love almost instantaneously. I got (made) a mix tape copy of Ruby Vroom, ASAP and played it to death. TO DEATH. Literally until the tape itself warped and snapped. I played them for anyone who would listen. I was a one-woman Soul Coughing PR machine.

Working at the Courtyard around this time, there was a kid named Matt. You know those people who, at the time, you think you’ll never forget or lose touch with? Yeah I’m barely sure this kid’s name was Matt. I say kid, but at the time he was probably 22 and I was maybe 18. I remember thinking he was so much older than me… ha! Matt was a show-goer. This is how we bonded. I’ve always been a “who is playing? Fuck it, let’s go” kinda show-goer. This guy taught me how. I was with this Matt guy the first time I met Beck. Also the first Lilith Fair when I met Juliana Hatfield, Emmylou Harris, Susanna Hoffs, Jill Sobule, etc. Matt wanted to road trip to Richmond to see Soul Coughing… did I want to go? Uhh, durr?

Reminder: this was around the peak of my, as of yet undiagnosed and life controlling, panic disorder. I always had this obstinate urge to push myself past whatever anxiety I was feeling. I let it control me, but I didn’t. It’s hard to explain if you’re not inside this head. I would intentionally put myself in risky or spontaneous situations because my anxiety forced me to face my own death on a near constant basis, so I had to carpe diem as hard as I could. I am a conundrum, or so it would seem. My first panic attack ever was when I was 15 in an auditorium type situation. Ironically, my biggest trigger for panic attacks has since always been theaters, clubs, auditoriums, or concerts. (To understand me best, please know I knew this about myself but decided to go to school for theater. Try and understand the type of person I am that I would do that to myself. On Purpose.) To spontaneously wander off 5 hours into Virginia to see a rock show at a crowded club was probably not the best decision for me at the time, but I did it. It was my first show road trip. It was my best.

The show was at a club called the Flood Zone. Being inside that hot crowded club, hearing these songs I had loved and played so much, seeing these guys right in front of me. I knew I was hooked. Not just on them, but on the idea of live music. I was going to do this again and again, at whatever the cost. And I just remember being there, my heart beating out of my chest and being so sure I was going to pass out and die and my hands and feet going numb and just thinking, “Fuck it! This is awesome!” As predicted, it was an incredible show, this song being one of my favorites off Ruby Vroom that they played. There are 14 songs on this album and I have 14 favorite songs on this album. Ruby Vroom is a Karla-staple, and holds a permanent residence on my iPod at all times.

Side note: upon returning to Raleigh, several months later, I discovered the internet to an extent more than I had before. Found the 'official' Soul Coughing website. Sent the band a short email about how I fought through my anxiety and made it through the whole show and thanked them for making it worth my while. I got a response from M.Doughty himself, from which a correspondence that lasted randomly off and on for several years was born. Last email I got from him was about 8 yrs ago, but still, a small claim to fame for me. I saw him do his solo show about a year ago at the Pour House, still just as excellent. Love that guy.

David Bowie - Sound and Vision

I used to babysit a little girl named Michaela. Every Wednesday for a year and half, before I went away to college, Her dad would pick me up and drive me over where I would hang out with the 7 year old for about 30 minutes until she went to bed (which would take hours to finally happen sometimes) and then I would be left all alone in a house with no junk food or cable TV.

The dad was a dentist, the mom a nutritionist and every Wednesday they went to a couple’s counseling/prayer meeting at their catholic church and then would go out on a date. (They were really cute and very good to me.) But their house was boring as hell. This was pre-internet and they had practically no movies. They had a complete works of William Shakespeare and a miniature record collection of about 25 vinyls. I slowly made my way through each album, copying (onto cassette) each album I felt worthy. The only two I really remember were Lou Reed’s Transformer and King Crimson’s Islands.

After I had made my way through the record collection, after a couple weeks I eventually discovered that I could pick up NCSU’s college radio station, WKNC 88.1 from their stereo. This was around 1993, when their signal didn’t reach much further than the beltline, and I ironically only lived about 1/8^th of a mile from the family, but the signal didn’t reach my house at all.

I started recording hours of just random songs… songs by bands that I, as a 15 year old, had only just recently discovered… the sugarcubes, siouxsie, moz… after an hour or two of then, “current” songs, suddenly this one song comes on. I thought it was catchy and cute. I taped it. I was that kid in school who always had headphones on (not much has changed in that respect,) and I listened to the tape with this song on it constantly. But me, being brilliant and forward thinking, decided not to record the bit where they were talking, so I had no idea what the song actually was. I knew, by way of my childhood obsession with the movie Labyrinth, that the singer was David Bowie. I knew he said the world “blue” over and over.

I played the song for friends who I knew had even the smallest inkling of musical aptitude and no one had a clue. Flash forward a few years, tapes become obsolete. This song still followed me. I always kept an ear out. I never heard it again except for on that one tape. (Damn you, Google, for not existing 10 years ago!) I got so excited once, I found a Bowie cd with the song “blue jean” on it, I bought it. It was not the song. It was not a good song, in general. It was not a good album. I was bitter for a while, at that point.

For whatever reason, one day rob and I were at a borders way up in north Raleigh, and he buys Low. At this point, I am around 21 or 22 years old, and had given up on the song. We had recently watched The Man Who Fell to Earth, and he said it was music that was either in the film or meant to be in it. He bought it and put it in, in the car. 4^th song in, and I’ll be damned… there it was. I was so shocked; I think I had to pull off the road.

Since its discovery, I have heard this song no less than 4,877,992 times. It never seems to get old and every time I hear it, I am 14 on Michaela’s parents’ floor, making mix tapes.

U2 - BAD

There are songs I have heard my whole life, written before I was born, that I know as well as my own heartbeat. Songs that mean so much to the global ear that you would be a fool to overlook them… All You Need is Love, Born to Run, Baba O'Riley… etc… But for me personally there is one song that has meant more, carried more weight, stopped my heart, broke me down and built me back up again over and over again. A song that even after hearing it a billion times, if it catches me in the right way, I will cry like a baby 99% of the time … that song is "Bad" by U2.

I was a little slower than some on the U2 train… In the early 90's I was hitting puberty head-on and becoming a panic-obsessed depression monger, as I think many of us were around 13 or so… nothing was making sense to me and the world was really sucking… this conflicted with my carefree retarded-ness of my childhood (I was fat and awkward, but I didn’t care, I was funny, I was a good artist, etc…) and the teaching of my church that I had gladly accepted and reveled in. But for most, puberty is when hairs grown, hips protrude and boobs appear... this happened to me as well, but what I remember most about puberty is the sudden and overwhelming shock and utter disbelief that the world really kinda sucks. People are cruel to each other, people starve to death in my own back yard, animals are tortured for hair products… a million reasons to stay indoors, burn candles and write bad poetry, which is what I did for the next 3 years.

But somewhere in the middle of this darkness and sorrow, a blinding bright ray of hope shone through… a kid I'd known since birth had given me a copy of Achtung Baby. I was intrigued to say the least. I had just recently decided to damn all top 40 Billboard stations and work on expanding my musical snobbery. I had already discovered bands like Siouxsie or The Smiths… I had a mental block telling me U2 were too big and I wouldn't be able to connect... I have one piece of advice for you all, if you really want to fuck up a 13 year old, give them a copy of Achtung Baby. I, literally, until that first note of Zoo Station, had no idea music could sound so good and so interesting, mean so much, inspire so much passion, propel such beliefs and give me so much hope all at once. Immediately, within the week, I did some research, (which was back then, non-internet, and consisted of me begging a ride off my mom to the library so I could go look up old issues of rolling stone and billboard magazines,) found out how much more of this music I was missing and immediately began a quest.

That next week, two things happened… I bought a copy of the Unforgettable Fire and a VHS copy of Rattle & Hum. Both of which contained the song "Bad." I will admit the Rattle & Hum version hooked me first. I had been preoccupied with the majesty that was Pride (In the Name of Love) on the actual LP, but to see the man sing "Bad." It gutted me. There is something about this version that brought it all home.

Maybe it has something to do with the shirtless, sweaty, be-suspender-ed, long haired Bono. Or Edge's bolo-tie, cowboy hat, Indian braid and quilted vest combination. Larry's baby face and concentrated grimace? Adam's cool confidence and mini-head-banging-session towards the end… The moment when both Edge and Adam are facing Larry, all stomping to the beat… the Sympathy for the Devil tie-in… the bittersweet tune, the astounding lyrics… the creaky silly woowoo's!... so much to love in one song.

I have watched this video no less than three times this morning, trying to pick the one thing I could say that stands out the most. The perfect moment to say, "This is the moment U2 becomes the greatest band in the universe to me." And every time, around 2:38… the first scratchy, powerful "Wide Awake! I'm not sleeping…" I lose it. I just lose it every single time. I get chills and feel tears well up in my eyes. And I believe that is the moment when I finally, for the first time, felt understood by someone in the world. That someone that I'd never met, somewhere I'd never go, might know how I feel. It's the moment I realized that there was a name for the feeling of hyper-awareness of all things rotten that you pray will be better one day… for you, for your family, for the world… It's the moment I knew that God could use people in places you wouldn’t expect to give you hope in ways you never thought possible.

Suddenly, there I was at 13 thinking, "I am awake. Wide awake. I know what's going on, by God. I get it!"

I've since learned the song was written in reference to a friend of Bono's who was a heroin addict. As I grew older, the song meant other things to me. When I was in the middle of a severely abusive relationship with an alcoholic, but I didn’t have the self-confidence or knowledge to get out of it, the song became my prayer. For him and for me. That he could let it go. That I could let him go.

This is something I have never admitted to anyone. It's been so long now and I've forgiven myself for everything that happened back then… but he would manipulate and force me to steal things so he could get money for alcohol or drugs. I was a dumb kid. He convinced me I was horrible and ugly and no one but him would ever have me, and he barely wanted me as it was, so I had better take what I got. So one afternoon after we had driven around to a couple different bookstores so he could steal books and then trade them at other book stores for cd's, then in turn sell the cd's to record shops, I had the Wide Awake in America EP in the player. And on the way to the store to exchange the stolen books, something just snapped. And I suddenly figured out what was going on. I had somehow conveniently ignored the beatings and name callings and theft and lying to friends and family for him… and the myriad of other red flags that were trying to tell me to get the hell away from this guy… and then suddenly out of no where, this song hit the right nerve in the right place in my brain and it finally struck me… this song was a prayer. For a friend who needed help. And I was that friend. And Bono was praying for his friend to take care of himself, to love himself. And in a way, maybe Bono was praying for all of us. Even me.

We got to the store and I refused to go in. the name calling and threats hurt, but I didn't go in. One more major fight two days later, after two years in hell, he finally moved out.

That was seven years ago.

Since then, when I hear this song, I hear passion. I hear re-birth, I hear retribution, but mostly, I hear a prayer for everyone I ever loved to be safe. To take care. I hear a prayer from a very good friend to take care of myself.

This song makes me think of: U2, Rob, a bus drive back from a U2 concert, My brother, grace, redemption and peace