KURT VILE

As I have gotten older, I have come to realize that there is patience required to properly appreciate summer. You must live through its ability to be insufferable to remember why you’ve yearned for its presence all winter long. After weeks of sticky, suffocating days, Kurt Vile’s performance at Haw River Ballroom was a blessing disguised within a blanket of exhausting summer heat. This blessing was revealed within the first couple of chords as my ears and my brain connected in harmonious satisfaction of the auditory experience they were recognizing. That experience being: the beautiful, raw, and creative creation that is Kurt Vile and the Violators.

This experience was filled with an overflowing level of emotions. The sound that had been restricted by the confines of my earbuds filled a space that was not only beautiful, but dear to me. The Haw River Ballroom is one of my favorite venues, and Saxaphaw is one of my favorite places. As I sat at a table outside the general store next to the venue, I shared a thought with my brother: “This is so Kurt Vile.”

I do not personally know the man I referred to, but in my relationship with the sound he creates, I could not have been more right. I spent my time at the show dancing and smiling in a way that was completely uncontrollable and directly correlated to his tunes and my sense of place. 

My uncontrollable groove could be attributed to how sharp and direct each chord he performed was. It projected through the venue, booming, bouncing, and echoing in my head. Punching me in the face, pulling the hair on my arms, making my hips sway, and my toes wiggle.

His talent was obvious but in no way intrusive. He blended with The Violators but still held a tangible space. Like the mirage of heat that puddles on asphalt as you drive to the beach. Ever present, holding your attention, but not inhibiting or distracting you from the surrounding environment.

It was a talent that was not there to be envied but rather silently blessed. Grateful that what exists in the mind under the mop of hair performing has the ability to be shared

As the heat comes to a close and I reflect on everything good, he occupies the space of silence in my imagined summer slideshow. His jumpy voice fills days swimming at the Quarry, lying on logs, laughing at turtles, and appreciating the sun. Drums powerfully cover up a pale blue sky soaking me with the bliss of a summer storm. Guitar riffs illuminate the fireflies that hover within the mist and katsu that surrounds my childhood home. And I revel in my overwhelming gratitude for having been lucky enough to appreciate the one and only Kurt Vile and The Violators.