#clearly you didn’t have a religious experience when the whole crowd sang to would that i and it shows

[tired-and-swaggy]

people complaining on Twitter about how hozier played mostly old songs last night instead of all the new ones… crazy to me. like you saw hozier. in front of you. he sang for you. crazy to be upset about anything after that

#clearly you didn’t have a religious experience when the whole crowd sang to would that i and it shows #or when he played cherry wine on his acoustic and you could hear the crowd softly singing all the words #cause I was near tears #he could stand on stage and read a book to us for two hours and i wouldnt care i love him so #i thought the set was gorgeous and wonderful #i was praying to hear Jackie and Wilson and i got that so I’m just so grateful for that #hozier #unreal unearth #unreal unearth tour

[stopeatingwhales]

the 1995 brits (pt. 2) x damon albarn & liam gallagher

ok this has nothing to do with the brits bc now its about glastonbury 1995 i just didn't know whether i should rename it lmaoo okay enjoy x

Pairing: 1995 damon albarn & liam gallagher x reader

Warnings: none at all

Word count: 2.495

part one

༉‧₊˚✧

The Glastonbury festival was always one of the best gatherings for music every year. All the best acts in the music would all be invited to perform, and it was amazing. It formed a unity, a connection between the fans and the artists, the creators and the consumers, morphing an atmosphere which only gentrified the solidarity and wholeness the nation felt when they all held adoration to the same album, same songs, singing the choruses from their hearts, with their whole being. It was a spiritual connection with the audience; you weren’t singing to them, you were singing with them. Nothing got as good as Glastonbury - a concert size any larger you would begin to feel detached with the audience - and boy was it a good feeling to be invited this year. Our band had blown up massively, and to be able to perform on the main stage, celebrating the summer and the true joys that music is able to provide and attain, is more than just doing your part. It’s a humbling experience; the lyrics that may have seemingly been written down as a daft thought on the back of a napkin whilst you were sitting having a coffee, relaxing in the tedious cycle that is life, being chanted back to you, shows the true connection those can have with simple melodies and lyrics. Once it’s released in any format, the music, the lyrics, the melodies, they aren’t yours; just as a book, once released, is not the authors’ anymore. It possesses the ownership of the public, that who purchases it, wears it out, listens to the songs back to back to memorise every single lyric and adlib. The songs become the nation's songs, they become the mere link to a dozen memories of each and every person, which they would take to their grave, remembering the good times, and potentially the bad. The true power of music is that it forms a connection - not just with the artist, but with yourself. You can relate to whatever has been said, you can understand yourself just that bit more which allows you to grow as a person, and mature and better into the person that you were set out to be.

I was standing backstage, currently watching the performance lead by Blur, trying to hide from any form of authority who would know that I wasn’t supposed to be back here yet. My band was on in a few hours, so I wasn’t permitted backstage, the only people allowed being the group that was on next. As I admired the performance being put on by Damon and the rest of the band, mumbling lyrics every now and again of songs that I had known from their albums, I felt an arm snake its way around my waist, the grip of the person’s palm squeezing my hip slightly. “Now how come I haven’t seen your pretty face in a while?” said Liam, who was grinning at me widely.

Since the Brit awards, I forced myself to stop partying as much as I used to, due to the addiction that had been stemming from my consistent use of drugs and alcohol. It began to take its toll on me entirely, and I hated the lifestyle that I had started to inhabit. Sex, booze, drugs... they all seem so wonderful, and seem to be fundamental elements that could provide an enjoyable time, don't they? But with repetitive use of such recreational activities, it would not only initiate the worst hangovers, but would also form a pit of longing in the body, endured with your attempt to fill it up with all the illegal pharmaceuticals to make you feel whole again, but of course, the happiness only lasts for a short while before you’re passed out on a couch, waking up at 5 in the afternoon with a raging headache and the only access to pain medication being a five minute walk to the nearest corner shop because you had finished it all. And to your surprise, the pit only got more deep and paining. It was ironic; the drugs designed for jubilation, euphoria, fulfillment, started to make me feel worse than I had already done previously. “I’ve just been caught up with working on the new album, so I’ve been too focused on that to be going out like I used to,” I replied, a grin masked over my lips. It was far from a lie; my band were currently working on our third album, and it had been quite an interesting experience as we were reinventing our sound, though wasn’t the main reason I had avoided all clubs in sight. “You miss me?”

“Course I do, you’re the only girl I know that’ll go as hard as the rest of the lads,” a frown painted over his face as he looked down on me. “It’s hot, y’know.”

I scoffed, my smile still evident on my face. “Oh Liam, you’re going to make me blush!” I joked, placing my arm around his waist. We both carried on watching the performance being led by Damon, who currently had the crowd screaming over the top of their heads at Girls and Boys. Oasis were on after - even these concerts were chipping in on the mess of their feud. “You nervous?”

“Me? Nervous? Never.” Liam replied, snarling at my question.

“Really?” I asked, diverting my stare to look up at Liam, my eyebrows raised in a sarcastic manner. Even though it wasn’t evident from his facial expression, everybody would be nervous. Especially if you were performing on the main stage in a few minutes.

“Okay, maybe a little bit.” He mumbled, staring at Damon with a look of disgust on his face.

“Knew it,” I grinned, allowing my hand to run up and down his back as a form of comfort to soothe his nerves. The tight grip he kept consistent on my waist proved that he felt tense. “You’ll be amazing, you always are.”

“You hitting on me?” he quickly fired back, cocking his head to the side as he admired me, his gaze flicking to my lips every now and again.

“Of course I am.” I sarcastically replied, rolling my eyes at Liam’s child-like characteristics. By now Blur had finished their set, leaving the crowd screaming and waving things in the air as a form of goodbye. Me and Liam stayed put in our place as the four boys waltzed off the stage, me congratulating them as they walked off one by one. Damon was the last to walk off, and as he began strolling off the stage proudly, our eyes connected, causing me to dart my stare away from his robust glare that had reflected off of his orbs. Knowing of his distaste in Liam, I brushed it off immediately, remembering the pettiness of their argument the last time we had all been together at the Brits. I heard Liam utter some profanity under his breath after Damon walked past us, but I chose not to question him on it, full-well knowing it was either wanker or cunt.

When the rest of the band turned up and Oasis were on cue to go on, Liam quickly detached himself from our embrace, pressing his lips to my cheek, grinning at me widely. “Don’t miss me too much!” he shouted as he walked onto the stage, causing the crowd to erupt into a fit from the mere sight of the band getting themselves ready - Liam just standing there cooly, picking up the tambourine left on the floor for him. I marvelled at the band as they began their set, instantly grinning as soon as Liam began singing the lyrics to Rock n Roll star. Let’s hope he’s not walking off stage this time.

I continued to concentrate on their performance, oftentimes laughing as the crowd progressively got more and more rowdy, screaming the lyrics as Liam sang them, as if Noel’s backing vocals weren’t enough to keep the song going to its full potential. “I wonder when you’re going to realise that you like me.” I heard a voice mutter from behind, causing me to abruptly turn my head, even though I knew exactly who it was. My eyes were greeted with the sight of Damon, a small smirk illustrated on his lips as he glued his eyes on mine - just like he had done before when he walked past me and Liam.

“I’m sorry?” I scoffed, raising my eyebrows at his clearly egotistical assumption, though I couldn’t help but resist a smile to contract on my cheeks as I gazed at him. Much like me and Liam, we also hadn’t spoken since the Brit awards, and it would’ve been a lie if I hadn’t wanted to talk to him again. Despite the fact that there was a certain tension between us that, from each meeting, seemed to intensify, and was something we were both clearly aware of, I ignored it entirely - even if my bandmates had teased me religiously every time they saw me have an encounter with him. Go out with him already! You two are constantly flirting!

Moving away from where I was standing, I made my way over to him to be able to talk over the loud music seeping out of the speakers, instead of shouting at one another. We then exited the backstage area together, welcoming us to the view of a plain grassland where a couple trailers had been parked, both of our bands included. Eventually, we walked to one of the random trailers, assuming it was his one, and stood against the shiny metal impediment as we shared a cigarette.

“Don’t act like it’s not true,” he replied casually, him reciprocating my grin as we began to walk further into the backstage space. “I saw the way you were eyeing me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I replied, attempting to act oblivious towards his statement. I could feel him gawking, focused on me as I admired the blooming sunlight that casted out towards us, the light so bright that it caused my eyes to tear up slightly. The music was still very much audible, and the screams of the many thousands jammed together in the mosh pit were still extremely loud.

“Oh, but you do.” he mumbled, causing me to shift my view to look at him. He had now fixated his stare onto the sun, the cigarette softly placed between his lips as he inhaled quickly before taking it out and allowing the built-up smoke from his lungs to escape into the atmosphere. Dropping the tobacco roll onto the ground, he placed his foot over it in order to burn it out, then turning his head to fixate his gaze onto mine. A brief moment of silence passed as we admired one another, the atmosphere carrying an element of apprehension as to what was about to occur between us. Through my peripheral I saw moving his body slightly to come closer to mine as he lifted his back off the metal surface and stood in front of me, my gaze not daring to leave him. Our eyes maintained strong eye contact as I felt my cheeks began to heat up furiously, followed by my attempt on telling myself that it was simply due to the sun’s radiance that my face held such warmth, almost as if to doubt the feelings, the tensions that had constantly piled up every time we had seen one another.

Our noses touched as our faces then became inches apart, my eyes focused on Damon, who kept darting his eyes to my lips every few seconds. Tilting his head slightly, he leaned his body forward, softly pressing his lips onto mine. We stood there for a few seconds, to allow the moment to truly sink in. His hands were gently placed on my waist as I placed them on his arms, like a form of support to allow myself to stay upright. After a while, I snaked my hands around his neck in order to deepen the kiss, the warmth of his lips colliding against mine sending shocks all around my body - the moment didn’t feel real at all. It was as if this entire time of me knowing of him, interacting with him, being in his presence, I had attempted to avoid myself catching feelings, not getting myself engraved in a situation with another musician, but due to my mind forcing such a hindrance, it became an inevitability - I caught feelings for Damon Albarn.

As we pulled away to catch our breaths, Damon leaned back, sneaking his arms around my waist as he looked down on me. “You liked that.”

“Shut up.”

“Can’t wait for Liam to find out about this.” he grinned, playing with strands of my hair as I glared at him. I knew he was aware of the glare I was giving him, because he seemingly began to grin even wider.

“He won’t, because you’re not going to tell him.” I replied bluntly, placing my hands on his chest as I began to draw little circles over his shirt. It felt so surreal, yet so normal - there was a certain amenity shared between us proving that what was felt in the past was indeed real, and indeed reciprocated.

“Always knew you’d give in one day.” he mumbled, a devilish grin painted on his lips.

“Really?” I scoffed. “Even when the tabloids were convinced me and Gallagher were an item?” I asked, staring straight into his eyes. I noticed him frown slightly after the question left my mouth, my lips attempting to form into a smile as I broke off his smug persona.

“Well it looks like you’ve left Liam to be with me.” he grinned, our eyes connecting once again. I took his hand away from my hair to interlace it with mine, holding it close to my chest for Damon to be able to feel my heartbeat. Even though anybody could have opened their trailer door and witnessed us in such an affectionate state, none of that seemingly mattered to either one of us. Everything that had occurred between me and Damon felt so perfect, to the point that I would want somebody to come and witness the true beauty of this moment. There was a strong feeling in my chest that I wanted him to feel, to understand, that what was occurring between us truly meant something, and wasn’t just a silly little play to mess with my feelings.

“Liam’s not that bad you know.”

“I’m just joking, love, don’t worry.” he mumbled, bringing our interlaced hands to his face to allow him to kiss the back of my hand. “You wanna go get something to eat before you head on?”

“Sure, I’d love to.” I said, forcing us to detach our bodies from our embrace and walk over to one of the food stalls, hand in hand.

#damon albarn x reader #Liam gallagher x reader #Liam gallagher #damon albarn #blur #blur band #oasis band #my writing #band imagines #fluff #nineties #90s #music

[allthislove]

So. Jesus Christ Superstar Live.

I just wanted to type/talk about why I loved it so much. I’ve been thinking about it, this past week. There’s, surprisingly, not a ton of talk about it, even though it’s clearly the best “live” NBC has ever done. 

Most of the talk about it, recently, has been religious, which... I guess comes with the territory, when you’re telling THE story of a major religion. Anyway...

I think, for me, one of the very biggest reasons I enjoyed it was seeing black Jesus. Much the same way Hamilton captivated me, because I was watching a bunch of inspiring people of color. I gotta say, I haven’t really seen Jesus Christ Superstar before this live. I knew the show, and I knew songs from it. I think I had even seen the 1973 movie as a child. I’m not sure. I don’t remember it very well, but it looks familiar. But anyway, after watching the live, I went back and listened to a few different versions (well, watched the clips on YouTube), and while they were very, very good, I start to feel uncomfortable when I’m looking at a blonde Jesus and a bunch of brown people singing his praises (1973). I watched the Simon Zealotes scene, and while the actor playing Simon killed it, man, was it uncomfortable to see a brown dude like “Hey, white man, I worship at your feet!” Especially since that was the fucking early 70s. (And the Yanni looking dude from the 2000 movie really couldn’t do it for me. Even though he was a good singer. Possible that that version is just too 2000s and dated, but whatever.)

Seeing a young, black Jesus, and a black Judas as my first real experience with the show was electrifying. 

I also really like John’s soulful voice in the Jesus role. A lot of people who grew up on the earlier versions of the show are saying he was bad in the role, but I disagree. The only issue is that his voice sounded strained at times, which happens in live performances. And I’ve rewatched it several times, and guess what? Several of the performers sounded strained, at times. Pilate and Judas also have moments where they struggle for a note, or mess a note up. And no one’s mentioned those times. (I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of this is just nostalgia for the rocker-sounding voice. John Legend makes this music sound really gospel or R&B. Which is beautiful, too. It’s just a different sound. But nostalgia sometimes gets in the way.) 

What I also liked was that this live made me care about the Jesus story in a way I haven’t in a looooong time. I grew up in the church. Not just in the church, but INNNNNNN the church. Like, my dad has always been the Minister of Music at every church we’ve ever attended, and my mom generally did the youth message. Like, I sang on choirs and did solos since before I can remember. I’m a black girl from the South. Most of us grew up in the church, but yeah, I was from a church going family. As I got older, I grew away from the church. Partially because the message American Christians spread is too soaked in hatred of specific types of people, and partially because the Christian dogma is scary and really bothered me. Literally the only thing I ever liked about Christianity was Jesus. Like, real Jesus, not MAGA Jesus. Jesus is a unique figure, in that his message is purely of love, and acceptance for everyone. (Which is why I couldn’t figure out why, for instance, Christians were so hellbent on hatred for the LGBT community.)

But, yeah, this story right here? The Passion? It’s never, ever presented in a way which makes the listener/reader understand truly what was happening. I must have heard about the Crucifixion and Resurrection of Christ a million times growing up. This musical is the first time I’ve heard the story presented in a way in which I understood what was at stake for the Jews, why Jesus was even a problem, why Judas even decided to turn him in, and why he was actually crucified. Shamefully, I never even got that Pilate didn’t think Jesus should die, until this musical. 

Part of that is because the musical made me want to read up on this story more. But yeah, it’s presented more accessibly than it ever is in other works. (And, yeah, I skipped The Passion of the Christ, and I refuse to ever watch it. I don’t like torture porn, and I remember when everyone in my church was going to see it and talking about how bloody it was and how we all should see it because we should see how Jesus suffered for us, and I remember thinking “what does being Christian have to do with forcing myself to watch something horrifying?”)

That said, a lot of active Christians are afraid it’s blasphemous. Not just this live version, but the musical in general. My take, as someone who leans Christian, but is really rather agnostic? It didn’t once make me lose an ounce of respect or reverence for Jesus. Maybe some Christians are afraid to look at Jesus as a person... but for me, it helps a lot. To look at him as a man who physically walked this Earth and was a member of an oppressed group, who did what he could to help them, and died for them. And, tbh, I know Christians view Jesus as the Messiah, but I thought the whole point was that Jesus was an Earthly incarnation of/the son of God/Yahweh. That’s the point. So, looking at him as a man isn’t a bad thing. The whole point was God sending his son to Earth to walk as a man among men. I’ve seen criticisms that it makes Jesus look power hungry. But I don’t think so at all. In the song Poor Jerusalem, he quiets Simon the Zealot and the crowd by telling them they, nor the Romans, nor the Jews, nor his own disciples understand what power or glory is. He doesn’t WANT the power and glory that Simon says he’ll get if he fights Rome. He seems to understand that there’s a higher power that none of them can fathom. He also, later, tells Pilate “that’s who you say I am” when asked if he’s the king of the Jews, or the son of God. In no scene does he tell people to worship him, or tell them he’s God, he’s King, anything. He’s represented as humble and gracious throughout the piece. In Hosanna: “Sing me a song, but not for me alone. Sing out for yourselves, for you are blessed. There is not one of you who cannot win the kingdom. The slow, the suffering, the quick, the dead.” How is that a power hungry figure? Judas’ point is not that Jesus is power hungry. It’s that he’s allowing the people to say he’s the Messiah (which Judas, in this play, isn’t sure of. I’m not sure how he felt in the Bible.), which Judas fears will bring the wrath of Rome and Caesar. He tells Jesus he’s “letting it go too far.” No where, however, does Jesus ask for any of the praise he receives. He just receives it well, because, well, he’s Jesus. He’s a kind, loving figure. He’s not going to be like “shut up, you idiots! Don’t call me the Messiah, Rome will kill us!”

The other complaint I hear is from Jewish people who suggest the musical claims “the Jews” killed Jesus. I don’t think it does. Everyone in the musical who isn’t Roman is Jewish. Some of those people were Jesus supporters til the end. Some, were not. But, that’s like any group of people. You have to also realize that, in this context, the Jews are a people- in an occupied land. Some of them looked at Jesus (in the world of the play), and thought “FINALLY! This man will save us all!” Some of them looked at him and thought “Who does this guy think he is? Claiming to be the son of God? Claiming to be our King? He’s going to get us killed!” (At the time, Rome was ruling and would see any person crowing themselves “king” as a threat.) The chorus in this play works sort of like.. they all just play whatever crowd it is at the time. Sure, it’s supposed to be that some of Jesus’ supporters turned on him. But also, they chorus is just playing that particular crowd. And, I don’t think it suggests that “Jewish people” in general are to blame. Jesus is Jewish, and so are the 12, and so is Mary. Even in the Bible, there are Jewish people who still followed Jesus (who later became what we called Christians later.) There were also probably Jewish people who had no idea any of this was happening. It was, after all, like 30-something AD. News didn’t get around that fast. But, yeah, the story is about Jewish people. All of them are Jewish, except Pilate (who is Roman.) So, it’s a little hard to say “the Jews” killed Jesus, when everyone involved is Jewish, and the person who actually did the killing wasn’t even Jewish. I don’t think the play suggests that at all. It just tells the story as it’s supposed to have happened. That Pilate didn’t think Jesus should be put to death, and the community demanded that he be killed (largely because they were afraid his message would make them a target for Rome.) But again, everyone in the story is Jewish. Jesus didn’t die a “Christian.” He died a Jew. Y’all know how I feel about saying, like, “black on black crime.” It’s the same context. It only happened that way because everyone there was Jewish, not because Jewish people were especially keen on killing Messiahs or something. 

Anyway, I think this is all my thoughts on it, for now. Final thoughts: Brandon Victor Dixon is amazing. Sara Bareilles did a beautiful job as Mary. The cast in general was great. 

Ohhhh! I wanted to comment on this: John Legend’s acting, of course, left something to be desired because, well, he’s not really an actor. But I gotta say, I realllllly love him in Hosanna. Just, his cute, cheeky defiance of the Pharisees? The playing to the actual audience. His smile. AMAZING. He’s best as cheerful Jesus. (I think he plays Jesus a bit too angry, in some scenes. Like, I don’t think he’s angry in the Last Supper, as much as direct/calling them out. But John plays it a little too much like Dream Girls. You know, the moment where everyone gangs up on Effie? That’s almost how John plays it. Jesus is supposed to be his angriest in the Temple scene.) But, yeah, I wanted to give him his props for Hosanna, which is brilliantly played. I haven’t seen anyone mention it, but I’ve watched Hosanna a billion times, already, just because I love how cute John is there. He’s like, silly Pharisees... you don’t even understand that I can’t control this. (Black churches love to pull out that rocks and stones thing. Like “when God wants His praise, He’ll get it. If you don’t praise Him, the rocks and stones will sing out!”) Loved it. I wish one of y’all gif-making folks would make me a gifset. Please? Thanks. 

Bye. 

#jesus chris superstar #jesus christ superstar live #I said a lot and whatever #rambling reflections on the show and the story #and whatever else #i hope nobody wants to fight me #also i don't necessarily like ALW so I never even really gave JCSS a chance

[authorjanellesamara-blog]

Yes, I'm talking about Maynard again (A Perfect Circle concert)

I just got back from going to see The Man play a concert and now I'm staying up to write about what I went through there. I'd not seen him perform live in a dozen years due to my crushing student loan debt. Last time, I met him. The Man made it memorable by being a weirdo with a riding crop. It was fantastic. Tonight was also fantastic. Amazing. Spectacular. And many other things. The arena was not packed, which surprised me. Then again, it's fucking Columbia, so who the fuck wants to drive there? Um, this chick does. 

And, luckily, my boss, his wife, and his brother also wanted to make the trek. There's a championship disk golf course there, so we could go early and make it a twofer. I'd never played before, but I'm down for trying just about anything once. I like to learn new things. For example, today, I learned that I throw better left-handed. But more on (moron?) that later...

The Concert

The opening band, NyQuell???, only played for thirty minutes. She said their name a few times, but it was unintelligible and it was not printed on the tickets. It was a dude behind a computer and a chick with shiny blood-red hair bouncing across the stage. She wore a short, flared, black skirt with thigh-high striped black and white socks. Her slick, straightened hair flew around in a windmill when she'd pause in her darting about to headbang for a moment. Back and forth, she danced or skipped across the stage, trying her hardest to rouse the audience, many of whom were still shuffling in and finding their seats. After half an hour of her singing about heartbreak, vengeance, and being a bad girl, her karaoke session was over. They almost didn't play their last song because their time was down to two minutes and they were having technical trouble with the computer guy's volume. The cord must have come part way out of his iPod or something. 

Then came thirty minutes of setting up for A Perfect Circle to come on. I watched a large man waddle onto the stage and sit down on what seemed to be a carpeted equipment box. He spent the next twenty minutes talking to other stagehands and pointing. He was the man in charge, apparently. He disappeared ten minutes before the band came on, which prompted my boss to suggest that it was actually Maynard, himself, in a fat suit. 

It was a three-ring-circus

It was obvious from the start that there were three platforms on stage. The shortest and the tallest were both covered. The center one was clearly for The Man since all it had was a mic stand. The keyboard was closest to us, so the drums were furthest away. It was a huge drumkit and it took at least five people to remove the tarp that had covered them through the first "band's" set. Two more keyboards were set up at the front of the stage, for Billy Howerdel and the bassist to play.

I watched in fascination when a man came out and started vacuuming the stage with a cordless Dyson. For a solid five minutes, I sat there like--what the fuck? Is this happening? It has a purpose, right? First, he vacuumed the right half of Maynard's platform, then he went to the front of the stage and systematically swept the entire stage, front to back. My grandmother would have been proud of his straight lines.

The lights went out

People cheered, screamed, and applauded. I couldn't see anything. I did not cheer. I would not until I knew he was out there, not until I saw him with my own eyes. Stage lights came up and there he was--a silhouette in a three-piece suit, long wig of wavy brown hair swaying against him as he moved to the music. I'm glad he's not wearing the one from the video for The Doomed; it would have impeded his flow. Deep piano and guitar filled us all, causing the audience to join The Man in his subtle movements.

"Looming, omnipresent," he crooned. His smooth, soothing voice washed over me, sank into my core, and carried me away. Unable to stop myself, I sang along with him as he heaped love and praise onto his muse and his inspiration--his wife.  Or, at least, that's how I interpret that song. 

"Feed us, Maynard," I whispered before the next song started. Disappointment could not find me. 

The opening notes of Disillusioned filled the arena while I wriggled in my seat. Then the music claimed my movement. I swayed side to side while I sang along with him, grateful for a volume so intense, I could feel it in my bones.

I was also glad that I could sing my heart out without bothering those around me. The Man has always challenged my skills and made me strive to improve my vocal abilities. I haven't been in a band in years, but that doesn't bother me. I get to create by writing my novels and by cooking. I don't need to create music. I'm perfectly content just singing along. I love to harmonize with Maynard, to take it up an octave or two or three. Sometimes, I'll stick to his tenor, or drop into his bass. It is a challenge, and like many challenges, I love it. I love that he makes me want to be better in oh, so many ways. I am perpetually grateful for his many additions to the morphic resonance of our cultural fabric. 

Disillusioned is an amazing song. The power of the melody and the lyrics give me chills. It was spectacular and it falls beyond my ability to properly convey through the written word. Like so many deep and meaningful experiences, you just cannot understand it properly unless you were there and you felt it, too.

You see, despite my firm belief that Maynard is NOT the Messiah, his concerts are comparable to a religious experience. He is feeding our souls and our spirits. He is trying to teach us, inspire us, make us be better, do better, believe in the betterment of ourselves, our society, and our world.  The Man cannot perform miracles. His origins are no more divine than my own. But, he is brilliant, observant, curious, and inspired. He's an unwilling leader, reluctant to tell us how we should be, fearing what will happen if he doesn't. He's just a man, as fucked up as all of the rest of us, sharing his poignant insights over and over until they sound divine. 

Weak and Powerless was their third song. A popular favorite that reminds me of a former roommate from fifteen years ago who took her own life two years ago. I just can't get into that song like I used to. Perhaps it's not just because of her. Maybe, I've simply grown beyond that song. I'm no longer weak or powerless. I've claimed and harnessed my strength. I've seized my power. I am in control of my self-loathing. Well, most of the time. 

For their next song, we were treated to So Long, and Thanks For All the Fish. The bass drum was so hard, I felt it in my chest, in the pit of my stomach, and pounding up through my feet, throughout my entire body. My eyes only left Maynard's platform briefly to watch the fish swimming across the basses of the platforms, across the four narrow speaker towers in the back, and up the three narrow screens that covered the lights hanging over the stage. But my gaze was continuously drawn back to the mesmerizing figure hidden behind the light.

Maynard is the "front man" of all of his bands, but he is always hidden in the back. He is never in the spotlight. The Man remains in shadow, in mystery, in disguise, as he sings and dances from the center of the light. Surrounded by brightness, it rarely lands on him, and instead, it shines out from the pinnacle of his brilliance to illuminate those around him who spread as well as seek his enlightenment. 

The stage lights dropped and became rows of soft, yellow spheres, reminiscent of old theater lighting. The platforms, towers, and top screens were at their simplest during the older songs, more lively for the newest songs. The show wound up being an almost even split--eight new and ten old songs.

The opening notes of Rose carried me away into a five-song stint of classic APC. Thomas, The Noose, People Are People, and 3 Libras came one after another. Wait, maybe they didn't. At one point, Maynard stopped to introduce the band. The drummer and bassist were also from Puscifer; James Iha is back with Smashing Pumpkins for the time being. (WOOOOOOO!!!)

After 3 Libras, The Man paused again to have a word with the audience. The way he speaks to the crowd at concerts has remained the same for many years now. He doesn't just talk, he pauses in an almost lyrical way. His tone doesn't break the spell that the music has placed us under. In fact, it seems to intensify it. In his broken, poetic beat, he told us that he was not a Republican, Democrat, or Libertarian. He is one who questions everything. He encouraged all of us to also question the supposed truths we were being fed by those in power. It's hard to remember his exact words, but it is impossible to forget the power of them, the eloquence, and the resonance of his slightly nasal voice echoing throughout the arena. His voice is that of an angel--hypnotic, inspiring, and full of a whole slew of emotions. He spoke of how, despite their lack of political affiliation, they've become quite political. 

What came next was a five-song stint of anger at the establishment, starting with The Contrarian. The opening notes brought cheers from the crowd, as his speech had numerous times just moments before. Maynard's smooth, velvet voice washed over us, warning of corruption, lies, and deceit. The lights continued to shadow The Man, his wide stance only visible in fleeting glimpses as he swayed with the music in his odd, distinctive way. Billy Howerdel's backup vocals were on target, his guitar solo uplifting the whole place, giving us hope for the change we collectively root for. 

TalkTalk came next, the opening notes once again bringing cheers from the crowd. The Man's dancing took on more of a Puscifer feel. With a wide, low stance, he bounced from side to side, taking on a bit of the arched-back-Tool-sway during the passionate guitar riffs. The light continued to hide him, much of his visibility being a chance placement from my viewpoint and the lights that came out from behind his platform. Hiding in the shadows, surrounded by light, The Man is the center of attention, trying to inspire what is right.

Hourglass was fucking awesome. If you've heard the live version of Hourglass that is on YouTube, it pales in comparison to what I witnessed in Columbia. The effects were done with much more precision and clarity. His voice was sharp and clear, even through the roughening effect of the electronic altering. The light show was incredible, flashing and swinging about in perfect time with the music. It made the whole experience all the more invigorating and enlivening. Again, we could see The Man's wide stance as he bobbed forward and back, always in time with the music that controls his motions. The drums hit me right in the chest, making me feel ill for a moment before Maynard's voice made me forget about everything else. Billy Howerdel's guitar solo halfway through was spectacular, but Jesus tits, when is he not? The piano was powerful and strong, an important and vital component for the complexity of this piece. I'm really just tickled pink with the amount of piano of the new album.

Counting Bodies Like Sheep to the Rhythm of the War Drums carried on the powerhouse set. The growls of The Man were carried by the pounding drums right into my bones before his soothing lullaby seemed to lift me in my seat. He gripped the mic stand with both hands, his right foot far behind him, his left knee bent, as he sang and rocked forward and back. Echoes of his voice filled the arena while shadows of his wavy wig seemed to exaggerate his movements.

The only song that could follow the intensity of Counting Bodies was The Doomed, which is exactly what we got. The powerful drums and guitars were hypnotic. The Man's sorrowful voice was angelic, wavering with emotion as he lamented those who cannot overcome the doom that is coming for them. His powerful tenor filled me with hope, shame, and sorrow for humankind. The whole place seemed to be in awe, mesmerized by hearing this song live for the first time. It was incredibly intense.

The lights went out again, leaving us in darkness as we cheered. The Outsider, another popular song from Thirteenth Step, was followed by The Package and then Gravity. I really love these songs, but it's hard to not love his music. Then again, The Outsider reminds me of my former roommate, as does The Noose, since she hung herself. Associating these songs with her makes it hard for me to enjoy them like I used to.

And, while I understand the necessity of these "angsty" songs, I just don't feel them like I used to. Perhaps I've grown beyond needing them. They no longer feed me like they did when I was younger because I've learned to accept myself for who I am. No one can make me feel bad for being myself. I may still be an outsider, but that no longer bothers me.  I am who I am, and fuck anyone who tells me to be something I'm not. You think I'm too old for my piercings? You want to tell me to cover my gray hair instead of coloring it blue and purple? Go fuck a tree. I hope you get splinters. 

The guitar and drums came softly, then The Man's voice began again. The Package was beautiful, but I'll admit I was starting to get antsy for another new song. Wouldn't they play any more songs from the new album?

"Lost again," he sang, carrying me away again on a melodic journey of surrender and peace. "Catch me, heal me," I sang along, joining my voice with those all over the arena. His wide stance was gone for the moment. He stood close to the mic stand, raising his arms from the center of the shadow as he called for an uplifting. His spell was cast over us all, his voice and the drums commanding our attention, the guitars bringing us closer to the enlightenment and love for life that he implores us to seek.

The final song they played was Feathers. The opening guitar riffs made my heart jump into my throat. The prominent piano and The Man's hauntingly sorrowful voice brought a palpable sense of soothing peace over us all. When he sang, "I'm like you, just like you," no one cheered. We were all too mesmerized by the harmony of what was happening in front of us. Blue feathers fell across a black background on all of the screens, lights flashed and danced, but it was the music that drove it all. The raw, genuine emotions that come through in APC music is incomparable. The Man's angelic vocals are impossible to not empathize with. He forces you to listen to his words by drawing you in with his resonant melodies. When Billy Howerdel broke out into another guitar solo about two-thirds through the song, everyone cheered. Because, again, Holy Monkey Balls, Batman--he's so fucking incredible. 

The only way he could have ended it better was with an encore of Get the Lead Out. But there was no encore. The lights came up and they came out for a bow. I barely caught a glimpse of Maynard's dark suit as I darted for the door. A long day of being in the car drinking coffee--then outside and chugging water--had left me with an uncomfortably full bladder. But, just as I'd suspected, it was a double-breasted suit with a matching vest. Because The Man has class and style.

OK, the concert is over. The rest is about me...

If the show had been in Kansas City, the arena would have been packed. The energy would have been tenfold. There would have been an encore. We'd have refused to leave without one. Because concerts in Kansas City are wild, intense, and amazing. I've been to concerts in close to a dozen cities and we really do make the best audiences.

If the concert had been in Kansas City, my husband would have been filling the empty seat beside me. It was a constant, haunting reminder of the guilt I felt about him not being able to come with me. The concert fell on the first day of Ramadan and he couldn't be gone all day. He had to be at his grocery store for the heavy business they'd be getting. He couldn't be out, running around Harmony Bends without any water or food until nightfall. My husband, who has been listening to me sing this album for the last month, had to miss the concert I'd looked forward to so much. He's not a big fan of American music, but I've spent four years singing the best of the best to him, trying to win him over to my taste. He actually wanted to come, but we knew he couldn't and it sucked.

My first time playing disc golf

I'm a 36-year-old child. All day, I had to bite my tongue so that I wasn't constantly making "that's what s/he said" jokes when my companions kept talking about how big, small, long, hard, full of woods, or easy the holes were. It would have gotten really old really fast because there were a lot of opportunities.

The course itself was gorgeous. I can see why this is considered one of the top courses around. The very first hole had a creek meandering through it; we threw over it twice. I landed a disc in it once, but so did two of the others. Nothing went where I was throwing it.

They all gave me tips, but I was so overwhelmed by the surroundings and the socializing that I had trouble heeding their advice on throwing. Mostly, I relied on my own instincts, desire, and strength. I was switch-hitting by the second hole. All of my right-handed throws had veered off to the left. I wondered if throwing with my left would make it go to the right. Nope, not so much. My left-handed throws went pretty straight if I released it on time and followed through. It feels like I'm about to hammerfist someone in the face. I like it.

There was a lot of walking, climbing, and crossing running water on this course. There were even a few stints steep enough to have necessitated the building of wooden stairs into the hillside. A few other sections needed stairs but didn't have them. The others assured me that most courses were much flatter, it usually wasn't this strenuous, etc. They seemed to be worried that I'd never want to do it again. That's not an issue, though, since I've been looking for an excuse to get outside and do something both physical and fun. My upper arms, shoulders, chest, and back are super sore the next day. It's awesome. I'm going to have to find a way to keep doing this in spite of my always busy schedule. 

  As a bit of an end cap, how insanely appropriate is it that we went to a place called Harmony Bends before going to see The Man? 

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