Hello again, readers of great literature and lovers of musical wonders. Or, hello to the people that have somehow wandered here by accident and really don't know what's going on. All are welcome.
To start off with, those that know me well know that I'm infatuated with music of every sort. Be it indie, folk, rock, rap, not so much country, and even classical, I can't seem to get enough. If you sat me in a room with nothing but a record player, some headphones, and a decent selection of music, you'd more than likely never hear from me again. There's something about the connection that music makes with my brain that captivates me and draws me ever closer, like I've found some intimate and personal story within this song that I've always known, but I've never been able to release. It's something I've learned to appreciate and really almost rely upon; An emotional connection to an invisible thing.
As little as 6 months ago, something happened to me that I'll inevitably discuss on here one day, but for now I'll just say that it made me question a lot of things that I've been taking for granted, or better yet, things that I've been blindly following for my entire life. I questioned my God and why He would show me this only to take it away. I came to doubt my very belief in love, the very essence of what I've wanted from the day of my birth, and if it had just become something that I'd made up in my mind, a cheap novelty to cover the fact that humans, no matter how hard we try otherwise, are only out to keep themselves warm. I was miserable and got well drunk a few nights, taking solace for a night at a time in the plastering brain-bash of a few shots. But there would always be the morning, and there'd always be the questions. Just because you forget them for a night doesn't make them go away. I tried that once before, in Italy, and the beautiful girl asked the same thing to me the next day.
And it was in about the 2nd month of this self-induced questioning, a quarter-life-crisis if you will, that I pulled myself out to see a Sufjan Stevens concert with one of my friends. I wasn't really in the mood, nor was I that impressed with his last album, an over-the-top electro-explosion that was by and far the complete opposite of his earlier, quieter, more personal albums. But I'd bought the tickets ages ago, and my friend tagged along, making me happier with her giddiness, aglow with the thought of live music, a trait I happen to share. By the time we'd parked and walked over to the venue, we were both vibrating with excitement and I'd all but forgotten about my eternal questions.
The next 3 hours were a blur, a fantastic blur, of music and dance and emotions so raw that they seemed to materialize in the air and take hold of everyone in that room. I was floored, mesmerized, confused as all, and loving every beat of it. And when it was finished, I felt better than I had in months, somehow cleansed by the electronic blips, healed by autotune, if a thing was even possible.
Sufjan Stevens, once quiet poet and songwriter, transformed in front of my eyes into a living ball of energy. He danced, jumped, propped himself up on instruments, and played every note as if the very heavens above were demanding it. He had such passion for every song that, despite his complete reversal from his quiet roots, every person in the room was cheering along with him. It was magical to see someone obviously loving every second of what he was doing. And it was in that realization that I understood some of the questions I'd been having.
Just because I don't have something does not mean that it doesn't exist. I can't see the wind, and it's not always around, but when it is I can feel it against me and understand what it can do. I can't see love, and it's not always around, but when it is I feel it with every fiber of my being and want to hold it as long as possible. She got away last summer, and it made me question why I'd been shown her in the first place. Why show me something that I want more than anything, only to have her ripped away? Maybe I'm supposed to focus on school and career before love comes into it? I'm still figuring that one out, but I'm not as bitter as I once was. Sufjan Stevens and 3 hours of beauty helped me through that.
Here's a clip of the concert (sadly not the one I was at) of Sufjan Stevens performing Vesuvius. It's magnificent.
- Dan
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