Lion [+digital booklet]
Played 134 times
Music for the Weekend: Loctaine by Peter Murphy.
My first concert ever was a Bauhaus show, at the Gothic Theater in Denver. I was thirteen. I’d listened to all the tapes but I had no idea what to do at a show. I showed up in an Einsturzende Neubauten t-shirt, baggy jeans and a beat-up pair of Air Jordans. I was surrounded by mostly porcelain-pale women dressed in black lace, black nailpolish and lipstick, and black / purple hair covering most of their faces. They shrieked and cried as the band played, and despite sticking out like a sore thumb it was for the first time that I felt any kind of sense of community. I loved this kind of music and was ashamed of having dark thoughts, and here was a bunch of people who expressed it outwardly, without shame or embarrassment. The room was full of fog and piercing lights, and Peter Murphy emerged from the mist, shirtless and skeleton-like, and full of a primal, dark energy as he dove headfirst into a blistering rendition of 'Stigmata Martyr.' A hot girl next to me was so excited that she grabbed me and kissed me long and hard on the neck, leaving behind a black lipstick reminder. It was technically my first kiss.
Six days ago on my plane ride home I was listening to Peter Murphy’s new record, and between my post-fever haze and feeling emotional about leaving my grandparents, this song brought tears to my eyes. I felt like one of those ghostly goth girls, swelling with feeling and sadness. I can still feel the raw power in Murphy’s voice, now fifty-seven years tested, and I put this track on repeat and listened to it for an hour.
My sickness has taught me to live in the moment, that our lives can change on a dime. It’s been one year since my wife and I experienced our tragic loss, and where I once used to think the flair for drama and bellicose was silly, I see now the value of living out loud, in the present moment, not caring what people think. Which doesn’t mean we have license to be inconsiderate - in that theater with Bauhaus we respected each others’ space, and any outward displays were in the name of passion, love and life. We learn lessons from life, and sometimes we need a trigger - a reminder - of those moments that meant something to us and changed our lives. I never realized until now how important my first concert was, beyond it being my first concert. It was my first experience of a shared love, of connecting with who you are with people who understood you. That’s pretty special.
Next time you go to a show, think of that scared thirteen year old who finally learned to let go and let life happen to him. You’ll hear the music in an entirely new way, a powerful way, a way that art can only affect you. You’ll find it magical.
Have a wonderful weekend.