I wonder why you have to see some bands live before you can truly appreciate their music. For instance, I had heard of Okkervil River long before I saw them live, but never connected with their music until I saw them open for the New Pornographers last April. After seeing them live, their music was completely different.
Now I love Okkervil River. I love that they got their name from a Russian short story. I love that Lou Reed asked them to open for him. I love that they cover the Beach Boys' Sloop John B"" in a song about John Berryman's suicide. I love that the first time I heard ""Black"" from Black Sheep Boy I sat down on the curb and tried not to cry. I love the lyrics from ""A King and Queen"" that say ""to lie by your side for sublime centuries / until we crumble to dust when we're crushed by a single sunbeam."" I love that they never shoegaze without turning towards self-referential critique. I really hope I don't sound like some creepy fan-boy.
But why would a concert change my perception of their music?
I love concerts for the music. I love concerts for the crush of sweaty bodies jumping up and down near the stage. I love concerts for the $10 all-you-can-drink Thursday nights at Regent Street Retreat. I love concerts for that one over-enthusiastic fan right in front of the stage. I love concerts for catching a couple roadies smoking weed by the side door. I love concerts for the old guy in the suit who dances like an ass. I love concerts for the tattoos and the beards, for the thick-rimmed glasses and the girl jeans. I love concerts for drinking with the lead singer before he goes on stage. At 10 a.m. I love concerts for the hot dog I had with the drummer and guitarist from one of the Juliana Theory's opening bands. I love concerts for staring at the flickering lights in the ceiling at The Barrymore. I love concerts for getting into fights in the mosh pit. I love concerts for being the guy that knows every lyric to every song. I love concerts for discovering that you like the opening band more than the headliner. I love concerts for the faded hand stamp the next morning.
But I think I love concerts most for their transparency. For the purity of their flaws and their triumphs. For the chords that stop working halfway through the third song. For the broken mic stands and the awkward start to your favorite song. For the raw emotion you read on the singer's face.
Maybe the reason that the April concert changed the way I saw Okkervil River's music is that their music is so closely in line with what I love about concerts themselves. Their music is about the complex relationships of pop culture and art, about broken people and self-image. Their music sings of self-referential absurdity and relationships that never work. In the end, that is what connects me to their music. That's why, at 7:30 p.m. this past Sunday night, I was sitting in the Barrymore staring at the flickering lights on the ceiling.
Have a different interpretation of that ""crush of sweaty bodies""? Send your concert horror stories to Dale at dpmundt@wisc.edu.
