i returned to the gorge this friday for the first time since seeing radiohead there in june of 2001. that was a show that was so perfect i've been trying to reproduce the experience ever since and never quite hit the mark, even when it's my musical hero, thom yorke {almost always when it's thom}. and i've seen a lot of good shows: u2, sigur rós, portishead, zoe keating, beirut, andrew bird, the list goes on. even when i am moved, even when it's an immersive experience, there is almost always a feeling of disappointment that it it didn't live up to that one magical show that first blew me away. i've begun to think i just have gotten too old to feel that strongly, or perhaps the show i remember didn't actually happen as i'd preserved it and over the years i've quietly questioned my memory of its beauty.
and a decade goes by. and a few more years, and then arcade fire made their announcement and though i've never followed them closely, i knew i needed to be there. i knew it would be a solid show, epic even, but they surprised me with one of the best shows i've seen. only one or two have ever come close to the emotional notch that the first radiohead show set for me and this unquestionably did. i can give the gorge its credit for being the best venue i've experienced, but there was something about the surprise of the night that was part of the magic.
i ddn't know the name of the lead singer, each and every one of the song names, or even a good portion of the lyrics. i just took it as it came, slipping under the pressure of my usual expectations and instead i found myself arrested in ecstatic time – a state of being that suspended me in each moment as it arrived, then up and against and into each of the subsequent moments as they rushed toward me. note after note. song after song. i was gently locked in a state of grace. there was nothing spared for distraction beyond the present: the hands on my back drumming a shared passion, moving to the sway and pulse around the two of us. enthusiastic hugs. shared smiles. dancing together. this is joy.
and the music kept coming, these songs that stretched beyond the setting sun in the distance, filling the canyons of the columbia river, and passing beyond sight and feeling into the realm of anthems. yes, anthems. nothing short will give them credit for the expansiveness of their music played live, something i have only felt from a few of their recorded songs.
between the click of the light and the start of the dream...they took up the all the space between the crowd. and it was there something shifted. held firmly in the present and on all sides by the music, i felt immobilized amid the flotsam of my self, feeling everything as a reflection of my fear, my joy, my hope and grief. and i have never cried so much in all the other shows i've seen combined. can we work it out? scream and shout till we work it out. and the mirrors kept coming. song after song. confetti shooting everywhere, catching in my dress, my hair, filling my eyes, drying the last of my tears. not even sure anymore why they ever were falling. children wake up/hold your mistake up/before they turn the summer into dust. we are here at the end. the crowd singing along. the chorus. the finale. they conducted us in those final notes, asking us to sing them off stage. my gratitude in each note of wake up. too full to even wish for more.
and only then did i realize i didn't take a single photo. my phone had been in a pocket behind me, but i needed something from the night. something more than a handful of confetti. something to hold on to later if i ever asked myself if the mirrors were really that good. a set list felt right but we were a little ways from the front. we waded through some listless fans and a few enthusiasts keeping up the melody long after the band left and we made it to the rail as the first few set lists were given away. 13 band members. i always get one when i set out to get it.
but i always seemed to be on the wrong side of the stage. the lists and crowds were diminishing. i almost walked away twice. kept returning. my vision was clear. i walked up to center stage in the middle of a conversation about one of the first set lists accidentally dropped between the rail and the platform. i could see it there, about a foot beyond reach, the security guard warning us not to climb over the fence. i couldn't leave it while i was so close and a few minutes later after i almost left a third time, one of the crew walked past handing out one of the last lists off to my right and i took the moment he paused to say excuse me, sir, do you mind getting the one that fell, please? surprisingly, and he wasn't too busy to kneel down, reach into the space, stretch that little bit farther. he picked out my hands from the others that suddenly appeared, a wad of gaffer tape and song names, mine.
we walked out, a little quiet, a little raw, more than a little grateful for the dark stretch of the columbia river gorge that was no longer visible even in the nearly full moon, and already this is one of those moments i plot on a map of my life: august 9th, 2014 -- george, wa, the gorge, 15 feet from the font of the stage -- this two hour span of lights and musicians and sound held me down and made me listen to everything all at the same time reminding me i feel strongly, love deeply, remember clearly, and i'm not chasing rainbows.
with my lightning bolts a glowing/i can see where i am going/better look out below!
