Sunday, March 29, 2009

spirit on the water (darkness on the face of the deep)

I'm in my most bob dylan-ish state of being. ever. its only natural after an experience as meaningful, intimate and special as the concert i've just been to... and the little journalism graduate in me wants to tell you all the details, all about the crowd, how diverse it was age wise, how the lights were so magnificently synchronized to the songs, how everything was so tidy and organized... but then feelings and emotions of me are rushing in, shoving into the little journalist, pushing her aside and taking over.

the room was packed but in a terrible danish way people had their comfy personal spaces for themselves, no one did come closer than half an arm's length to anyone else, except if they had agreed to do so beforehand :). i guess its also the type of crowd that makes the difference.

i was thinking about how i label some people as bad dancers because they move sort of awkwardly and stiff... but then i realised, looking at people around, that awkward, stiff moves are the essence of feeling music. you dont really control it, you get the rhythm bug and you move, it doesnt necessarily make sense or look good but you're into it, the music has you. i will look with so much more respect to what was formerly known as bad dancers now, cause of my new theory of rhythm. i'll think of them as the true music feelers. i will.

i hate how sometimes feelings want to get out so much but they get stuck in the door, because they;re all trying to get out at once, i guess thats why i;m bad at expressing feelings sometimes, the exit isnt big enough, nor is it marked with fluorescent lights. i should get a stewardess to train my feelings on emergency procedures. but beyond any literary effort is my need to actually record all that i've been feeling and thinking. it was, more than anything, a spiritual experience. there's something in the man's voice, in his lyrics, in how memories of mine are connected to different songs of his that made it so. plus, at two of the songs, they lit up the top of the room and it gave the whole moment such a divine (literally!) outlook. there was this one song which really opened my heart and let me have a good look at it... it remained open for the rest of the concert and songs that came along forced me into getting all kinds of answers from it, answers i was long awaiting for.

"They ask me how I feel
And if my love is real
And how I know I'll make it through."

the man's a genius. he didnt talk much and i must say he never stroke me as the type who'd start by "good evening copenhagen, how are you all feeling!?!" or "everyone put your hands up!!". :) he only spoke towards the end and he started with "good evening, friends". i found that terribly fit, cause he knows all the people in that room have a friend in him, have shared happiness and sorrow with him, have thought a million times that he, only he, really understands what they're going through. i am very much one of them. and with no insurance for risks of sounding silly or just corny i have to say i felt again, as a reinforcement of the idea that i previously had, that music can heal, music can make you feel understood or can make you understand, it can make you see sense in things, oh what cant music do??!, i naively, but somehow confidently, ask out loud.

and after all this unconvincing rambling, i dont have words to describe how lucky i feel to have had this experience and also to have shared it with a really great friend. "you can do a lot of things that make time look still". what i secretly wish is that my dad was there, too.