Aug 20, 2009
In many ways I feel I denied myself — intentionally or otherwise — of a rebellious youth. I've always been the cautious, overthinking type, and in many situations I am prevented from truly enjoying the moment by my overactive conscience constantly conjuring reasons I shouldn't be. It's something I'm learning to live with, and by becoming conscious of the conscience itself, I'm beginning to be able to wield ever more power over it.
One of the things I wish I'd done more of is witnessing the energy present at a raucous musical performance. I didn't attend my first real gig until I was around 20 years old, and in the subsequent two or so years I made up for lost time by attending a multitude of live performances, many of which were of the pure punk (or similar) variety. Looking back, some of my happiest times have been in the front row of a tiny venue in Sydney with one of my favourite bands playing loudly and passionately before my eyes. In rare cases the band would be of the ilk such that a mosh pit would break out in front of stage, with dedicated fans hurling themselves into the affray with wilful abandon.
Since moving to Copenhagen, I've fallen out of this pattern of behaviour —partly due to losing a consistent accomplice to these escapades, but mostly due to my own laziness in seeking out the right types of shows — so much so that it appears I'd forgotten just how much I enjoy it. I was reminded of this fact this past friday, when my entire workplace attended Beat Day — a small 2 day music festival held in Valbyparken on the outskirts of central Copenhagen — and saw the band Crystal Castles perform. The group themselves are not rated particularly highly in my personal list — while I enjoy their music well enough, they simply aren't my usual cup of tea, and in all honesty I have never paid much attention to them up until now, and likely won't pay much more to them from here onwards than I otherwise would have — but a combination of a bit alcohol and the right mood had me near the front of the stage as they were about to commence. As they begun, it quickly became apparent that their live show was distinctly different than their recorded material, in that the nuanced beeps and blips were replaced with a wall of noise and an increased energy level and rawness. This led to a frenzied response from the crowd, and quote quickly I found myself in the middle of a mosh pit.
I was instantly transported back to Sydney, at any one of the several dozen shows I witnessed over a two to three year period during which I learned to abandon all thoughts of appearances and decorum and truly become one with the reality of the situation I was in. As the performance progressed I fell deeper into the moment and the experiences that go with it; the crushing together of bodies of strangers; the sweat; the comraderie and affection for your newly found brethren; the blurring of vision and perception of time; the help to be found the moment that someone falls or drops a personal possession; the inherent tension that seems to constantly build, while never rising so high as to become unbearable.
By the end of the show I was simultaneously exhausted and exhilarated, spilling out into the darkness feeling as close to euphoric as one can get without the use of mind altering drugs. It's these moments I feel that I missed in my overcautious youth, and the ones I'm glad to discover on a rare occasion such as this one. It's reassuring to be reminded that I'm perectly capable of having a great experience without souring it by over analysing things, and doubly so as I was just beginning to feel like my window of opportunity had all but shut. It's clear to me now that it's still wide open, and will remain so for many years to come, so long as I can manage to get myself into these sorts of situations every once in a while.