Comparative Reality

I wrote the first "Loud" post as a prelude to this one. Last week, I went to see My Bloody Valentine in San Francisco, and I fully expected them to be...well, loud. They did not disappoint.

I took notes during the show. They ramble.

...

First off, I'll say that I can't do a better job than this review. Honestly, read that to get a much better sense of the concert, and MBV's performance.

Ok, skipping past the nonsense I wrote while I was taking BART to the city, and leaping right into my walk to the SF Concourse, were they were playing...

Things I learned tonight: Carl's Jr. has trademarked "Breakfast Burger" (TM).

South of Market, the city stinks of piss and cheap Chinese food food in alternating waves.

Hipsters and homeless on the streets. Dull red rings of infrared cameras peering from the walls. Long strides take me closer. Three busts of David in a window.

Reek of pot smoke. Getting closer. "Tonight. Sold Out."

A block and a half of people. I walk to the back to walk back to the front, more slowly. And its hours until MBV comes on.

8:40 Bass rumble of sound check. Louder, and starts to shake. Shirts? Nah, I feel like saving the $25. I'm at the back of a cavernous warehouse. Maybe that's the opening band? I go forward.

An electronic flutist?

Vodka and Red Bull: $10

Alien piping sounds, over the droning bass rumble. Azathoth, here we come. Sort of ambient, yet disturbing. Hard to ignore the organ-rumbling bass. And feedback.

They pressed earplugs into our hands as they took our tickets at the door.

I start to not mind the alien flutist. This would be great for CoC games. Things are blurred in the purple light from the stage. UV?

The place is about 40% full on the floor. People hang out on the raised areas at the sides, near the beer and swag, or at the walls, waiting.

Two people playing feedback. I can't see half of either of them, based in the fuzzy purple light.

9:00 I'm standing above the floor, near the stage, near a stack of speakers. I'll probably want to move.

The alien flute drone ends. I was actually starting to enjoy it near the end.

Chips and candy: $2

There's a long line to go outside to the rope-off smoking section. They only let a few people out at a time.

9:15 Closer to 1/2 the floor is filled with people. The next band comes on.

"Good evening."

Guitar. Space noises. Slow, languid. Psychedelic rock. Time to try the earplugs.

The next song is louder. Pounding drums. Not a good singer, though.

Mist clouds over the stage. Smoke machines, of course. Third song: Louder. Droning singing now. One guitar riff, repeated. Heavy drums, lots of bass. I feel it in the wall at my back. Without the earplugs, it's loud.

I'm not used to using earplugs. I keep adjusting them. How far should they go in?

Lots of couples. My wife would stab me if I subjected her to this.

Buzzsaw feedback, held. Drums. This part is good. I’d hate to live near here, and this is before MBV go on. I feel like I should cram another pair of earplugs in there.

Trying my earplugs versus the ones they gave out at the door. I think I prefer theirs. Well, that trip to the drug store was a wasted lunch break.

9:40 Forgot to bring mints. My mouth is dry.

Bad singer, pretty good musicians. Not hugely original, but good.

9:55 They end their set. Beards are popular amongst the crowd.

10:05 I can see as much from the floor as I can from the raised areas. Curse my non-mutant height!

10:10 It’s getting crowded as people pack onto the floor. I need spikes. The person in front of me lights their little pipe, and sucks in quickly. To my left, and up, someone is spewing huge clouds of smoke.

And the couple in front of the guy in front of me is the Make Out Couple. Any other stereotypical concert-goer roles that my neighbors care to fill?

The people in front of me are getting taller. We need height limits.

Green laser + hazy room = stupid.

10:31 Let’s hear some music.

Strobing lights, heavy bass.

11:20 "Hi, uh, thanks for coming." From Kevin Shields. That’s the banter. (Actually, Bilinda later gave us another sentence of banter a little later. Which I failed to write down.)

12:00 am
15, 20 minutes of ultimate loud. I feel like bits of me were blown off in the hurricane.

You could feel the sound. The air was vibrating, in this crescendo of drums and guitars and bass and feedback that held, and held…

Even before that last song, my breathing was made ragged by the assault. Why subject myself to this? Because it’s awesome, and maybe even purifying in a way.

Actually, that’s probably crap. It’s just fun, once in a while, to be hit with and washed over by a tidal wave of sound. Natural disasters are a poor analogy, since this is a purely human force. Well, a heavily amplified human force.

12:30 – on the way home

The earplugs took some getting used to, since I haven’t worn them at concerts previous to this. At first, they were in too well, muffling the sound. And what’s the point of dead sound at a concert?

So I kept adjusting them, and ultimately found a happy medium between full aural assault and listening to music through a wall. Of course, during that last song, I was alternating between reveling in the sonic beating and jamming the plugs further into my ear canals, to try to preserve at least some of my hearing.

Before the last song, I admit, I was getting worn out. Standing for too long, jostling to get a view of the stage, shifting when someone started wandering backwards, the stench of pot and other odors. My back was sore, I was looking forward to ditching these clothes, and the sensory assault was wearing me down.

But the last song…you have to enjoy it. That’s the whole point of the concert, right there.

I was tempted to take a picture with my cell phone, but didn’t. The picture would have been a blur of light, washed out, with a blur of haze and cheap camera optics. I also didn’t want to be one of those twits who takes cell phone pictures at a concert. If I can’t find a decent picture online, then the Internet has failed.

12:40 Closer now - Daly City

Tried. Somewhat shaky, but not in a bad way. I have to wake up in five hours, and I still have about an hour to go.

What do I feel? I’m not sure. As with all concerts, I wanted it to be glorious, even transcendental. A religious experience? Possibly, but more about being lost in, or overwhelmed by the moment. I look for more than entertainment in music.

Was it good? Yes. Great? In parts. But maybe not more than I expected.

For example: The Sundays, 1993, during the Blind tour.

Harriet and David onstage, with a single purple light illuminating them.

And the music is ethereal. Which sounds cheesy, and basely poetic, but it’s true. She held the audience in rapt silence as she sang, and it was not something that I’ve heard before or since.

And I want to have another experience like that at a concert.

The sonic storm that closed the concert was like that, in a way: Bigger than you can really conceive, even if I did say that I expected it. Strobes flashing patterns of colors through your eyes and burning into your brain, and the sound shocking every molecule of your body. The air was vibrating. You could feel it, an inch off your skin, but not just around you: A huge warehouse of people standing in pulsing, vibrating noise.