For about a week after a good concert, I feel weepy. I slug around the house, collapsing into all the seats, sighing a lot. I don’t even try to hold my head up. I feel a weird mix of sad and exhausted and nostalgic.
I’ve been this way always. I remember the morning after a concert in grade 8 where I woke up feeling like I’d been dumped. The band I’d gone to see had this song called “It’s Over,” and I laid on my bed and listened to it and cried. It’s so excessive.
Music takes a lot of energy to listen to or something? I’m working on a theory about how musicians are actually a weird kind of con people who have discovered a way to suck the life force out of the audience while they’re playing for them – that’s why they play their most emotional stuff and try to make you scream or cry or laugh or whatever. They want to elicit your most raw and powerful reaction; it comes out of you and they keep it. They bottle it up and drink it, and that’s how they stay so young-looking and why Emily Haines can travel around doing what she does and staying up late and hopping all over the place like she’s 16 instead of 42, while I have to spend a week recuperating from just sitting in a seat in front of her for two hours.
It’s got a hole or two, but it’s a pretty solid theory.
But, also, I’m so glad I waited until this point in their career to see them live, because Kintsugi is such a solid album and I loved every song they played off of there. And they did “Cath” and “I Will Possess Your Heart” from Narrow Stairs. Not much from Codes and Keys. It was like they consulted with my subconscious when they were making the set list.
(Thanks, guys. Next time, though, I will need to hear “Marching Bands of Manhattan.”)
Cue dramatic sighing and head lolling. What a night.