INT. LADIES ROOM, SOUTHGATE HOUSE REVIVAL, KENTUCKY, USA
"I see all these, like, sixteen year olds, and I'm, like, you have NO IDEA. This is the soundtrack of my FRESHMAN YEAR DORM ROOM."
We're at The Breeders show in Newport, KY, a "hometown" warmup gig for LSXX: their Last Splash 20th anniversary tour. A girl who appears to be in her early twenties leans shy against the sink in a blue skirt, out of the way of the woman dismissing clueless sixteen year olds.
"I cried, like, three times during Drivin' on 9." In one of the stalls, someone had written they lyrics to Fleetwood Mac's "Dreams" on the wall in cursive with a Sharpie. "Like, what would these kids know?"
"We're so OLD!"
"I'm 36, I got you."
"I'm THIRTY-SEVEN. HA."
"You're all so young with the threes in your ages. I've got a four." And back on stage in the old church, prepping for their encore, the Deal sisters & co., with fives now in their ages, transcended all of those expectations that come with numbers.
I'm with these women who by shouting out numbers stake their claim on having "been there" way back when, and yet I'm not: last night I realized what feelings are wasted on us when we're 17. I don't think I was ready for this album back then. I wasn't there. Twenty years later, I had finally arrived to the point where I was ready, just in time. I finally got it, for the first time.
INT. CONCERT HALL
The picture I took at The Breeders show last night: Kelley smiling, Jo posing, Kim obscured from view by a pole and Jim by the drum kit, Carrie fiddling, Mike (Kelley's partner in the amazing R.Ring) taking it all in from the wings.
A second later I was asked by a staff member to put my camera away: the band asked that there be no photography without a pass, which I didn't realize when I took the picture, so I won't post it here. (Future advice: add "NO PHOTOGRAPHY" to your "NO AUDIO/VIDEO RECORDING" sign and your staff won't have to spend the night getting people to put away their camera phones. Which should be kept in pockets anyway; it was a great show without those glowing interferences. I normally allow myself three photos at the beginning before enjoying the rest of the show. But I digress.)
In lieu of photographic adornments I'll say this: wow. Like, WOW. Seeing The Breeders live again for the first time since 1994 reminded me what musically creative women those are up there on that stage. They had always been female icons to me; I wouldn't have been in a band in college if it weren't for Kim Deal (and certainly we never would have covered "Caribou" if it weren't for her). But their creativity was something I hadn't fully grasped, or wasn't yet ready to grasp, until I saw the whole album played through live like that. You don't hear this stuff come out of just anyone. Go and listen to Last Splash again, all the way through: it's sonically unpredictable and beautiful. It's hard and soft, it's country and it's rock. It's Ohio and England and '90s and now and feminist and still transcendent of gender and time and place.
And all of it up on that stage last night was in its right place, and executed really, really well. And I was finally in my right place.
Leaning up against a wall of an old church with a beer in one hand, watching the crowd of Daytonites and Cincinnatians and Kentuckians FULLY into it, feeling seventeen again, feeling all of nearly thirty-seven, and this line from "Saints" finally made real sense to me: Summer is ready when you are.
(cross-posted from Tumblr)
© Zan McQuade. All rights reserved.
Our Internet has become something different from what we ever imagined it to be: a feeding trough instead of a roundtable.
--Why we badly need a slower Internet (and fewer lists)
A few months ago, I wrote a piece for the Daily Dot about why we need the Slow Web, a movement towards creating less content with greater substance. After the piece was published yesterday, Brian Bailey, founder of Uncommon in Common, a site focused on cultivating a slower web, reached out to me with a few links to his site, including their wonderful genesis mission statement: A community of possibilities.
Let's pause for a second while you add that to your Instapaper.
I think it's interesting that I hadn't yet come across this site, and I think it's indicative of one of the major problems of the fast web; as I described it in an email to Brian: [the internet has become] a vast expanse of surfaces, too many points in need of excavation.
By creating more and more web and links and lists, we're reducing visibility. Fogging up the lens with content. A more carefully considered web would allow us to see bigger ideas more clearly, would encourage us to create these bigger ideas in the first place rather than just linking to the smaller ones. Part of this could be voluntarily stepping back from the internet for a while, resisting the urge to refresh refresh refresh all day. (Hey, I'm guilty of this too. Probably more guilty than most.) Another part is taking a pause before we share something on social networking sites.
For years J has been encouraging me to share less. That it's okay to just live without documenting. And in those moments when I find myself without my phone, staring at a beautiful sight, hearing something that's bigger than me, uncapturable, I try to remember to take a deep breath and hold on tightly to that moment in my mind. Where have all these precious, personal moments gone? Floating down the rapids of social media like sticks and leaves, to be crushed against the rocks.
This isn't to say I'm giving up Instagram or Twitter or Facebook or Tumblr (god, it's exhausting just writing those all out, remembering how many passwords I need to remember to access what I'm meant to be remembering). There is value and carefully considered content in those places too. But it's about being more careful with our content, with our creation, with our sharing, with what we choose to take in: perhaps investing more time in something, but with fewer words expended. Perhaps expending just as many words, but less often.
Or just taking a deep breath and holding on tightly to a moment in your mind.
I look forward to learning more from the people who are already investing themselves in this movement. Brian's statement also includes a great list of further reading at the bottom, all of which I fully intend to read. Later, in a comfortable chair, away from my desk. To be considered carefully. You might want to stop hitting refresh for a while and do the same.
© Zan McQuade. All rights reserved.
I was fortunate enough to get to meet the great Latvian poet Imants Ziedonis sometime around 2002, in the basement of the Dailes Theatre. Over the joyful pump of dueling accordions celebrating the birthday of his wife, an actress in the theater, I shook his hand. I told him I had to remind myself to use the formal "Jūs" with him; he said not to worry about it, that he wasn't so formal himself. He told me the story of how he once went to speak to some children at a school. One boy said to him, "but wait, you're not dead?" And he said, "no, I don't think so." And the boy said "how strange, I thought we only read dead people in school!"
Imants Ziedonis passed away today at the age of 79, long after they started studying him in schools.
After his death had been announced, the following was posted on his Twitter account:
Grīdas dēļu šķirbās vēl guļ vakardiena. Viena nopūta dus trauku dvielī, un viens lamu vārds dus pavarda pelnos.
Translation: Yesterday still lies in the cracks between floorboards. One sigh rests in a dish towel, and one curse word rests in the fireplace ashes.
He always did write my favorite words. Rest In Peace, Ziedonis, wherever your words may fall.
(photo by Uldis Grasis)