article and art by Linnea Anderson
venue: Kilby Block Party in Salt Lake City, Utah
—
we were standing in the patchy grass. but all the sights and sounds were sending us somewhere else.
the backdrop dragged us through galaxies and geometric patterns. i couldn’t decide if we were really small or really big. or both.
an asteroid would pass by the screen. so little we are here in this crowd.
particles would swirl and burst and collide. maybe this is bigger than i think it is.
where did slowdive come from and how did i find myself here?
they led in only with stark noises.
eee yuh uh uh uh tssstt
can someone turn the lights out? why are we here? where’s the couch and the pillow and the blanket?
the foreign sounds bounced off dirt patches where the grass wore away. then it ricocheted between our bent arms.
it was a hands in their pockets kinda crowd. not much dancing, but a step left and a sway. a head nod, an awkward bob up and down.
we followed the commands of our leader: Raychel Goswell.
she was blasting through time right along with the rest of us. the audience screamed for another year of her life, a 50-something happy birthday to her. she was celebrated, center stage, all balled up in the tule of her bright blue dress. sinking left and right alongside her melodies.
the wind brought lift to her arms, and with the stars behind her, it felt like a year could pass easily.
the heavy bass and stoic crowd brought the energy down.
people jabbered between songs: “their new stuff is just as good as their old.”
this doesn’t even feel like a concert you have to stand for, i thought.
and then someone hit the floor. flat out and straight ahead of me. completely overcome by some foreign entity. she looked euphoric before her eyes rolled back. the crowd looks horrified. drugs. must be.
slowdive went on without noticing our arms vigorously waving in the air for help.
by the time security got there, she shot right back up. we were baffled. she left and the others rested back into the cyclical sounds and display.
they played the classics everyone seems to know but no one knows the words to. there is a strange embarrassment and sense of camaraderie at a concert like theirs. all of us quietly mouthing gibberish in an attempt to prove we know the music.
maybe we don’t know the lyrics, but we knew what we were entering into. aside from the almost overdose, Slowdive was about as slow and as deep as one should anticipate.
the backdrop transitioned into a body of water, the dark blue turned pink and then yellow. can someone turn the lights out? i am begging.