Dreams, Reality, Gratitude and Joy

IMG_1768It feels like it was all one big dream. It had to have been. That, or it was the altitude.

It all felt kind of shaky, a little hazy, kind of surreal. Still kinetic though, vibrant and feeling purely impossible.

I remember the climb up to Red Rocks, legs shaking, exhausted, staring up at these monoliths that I’d only seen in pictures. I was barely able to process that I was going to see a band that I never thought I’d see in my lifetime, much less twice in a little over a year. For a few moments I stared out at the crowd from the stage, watching as they reached so high they eventually just faded out, framed by two beautiful rock formations. I won’t forget that ever.
I remember standing in the photo pit the next day, hearing keyboards that are so familiar in every moment of my everyday life, on my record player or my iPhone, but never in the same way they did for those first 35 shows. That on this particular Saturday, how they never felt like they were missing, how warm, how fucking brilliant it was, and how it brought me back in touch with that white hot energy that was so intoxicating ten years ago.

I saw Lifter Puller and The Hold Steady – complete with Franz Nicolay – in consecutive days in Denver. I never thought this could even be a thing that could have been dreamed up. But it was, and it happened.

I don’t know if there are words for this weekend, or at least ones I can’t formulate. There are feelings and impressions. It felt sweet and authentic, definitely heartwarming and all mostly exciting.

It’s amazing that in 2016, two combinations of eight people from very disparate places can come together to create music and create an experience for people to purely enjoy, just because they can. That Lifter Puller is the littlest punk rock engine that could, playing just six shows after their original dissolution in 2000 – to their largest crowd EVER sixteen years later is mindblowing. Then to think, a day later that The Hold Steady could play their landmark record with the keyboard player that is so much part of that signature sound – years after his departure left more question marks than answers is just an amazing thing to me.

I understand the frustration and the sadness that many felt for not being able to attend these shows or any of the ones coming up this fall. I read the messages every day. I’m doing my best to bring the experience to them, because I know I’d want to soak up every moment any way possible. I still think that’s beside the point though. I know it’s easy to say that because I was there, but I am constantly thinking about the following.

Nothing is forever. We’re always perpetually in a state of nostalgia, and I think people always have an especially hard time with that when it comes to music. “When will there be a new album? Will there be more shows? I wish they did this instead of that.” That I get, I’ve been one of those people. But for now, it’s great to purely enjoy it. So much joy is not a phrase. It actually means something. I’m grateful that my favorite bands on the planet are doing something. I’m not worried about what comes next. I honestly have not a single idea if there’s anything else after December. But I’m thrilled for now, and that’s enough. These bands, especially The Hold Steady, have given me more than I could ever give back.

I wish Jersey Mike, Liz Montgomery and Bible Salesman were here for it. I know they would have loved it. Jersey would have told us to enjoy this moment with a very impassioned post on the message boards, Liz would have said something so smart that I would still be trying to figure it out a month later, and Bible would have said something weird and off putting and tied it to some Bruce anecdote, but I would secretly be happy to see his yellow hat at the shows.

I’m so grateful to have experienced all of it. From the opening notes of “Stuck Between Stations” to stopping on a dime at end of “Stay Positive,” the other day, it just reminded me why I have spent so much of the past ten years of my life on this. It’s more about the experience and the people than it is about the music for me. For now, I know there’s a few more chances to do that, and a lifetime to connect with others who love the same thing that I do.

So much goddamn joy.

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