About six years ago, M. Gira's latest project, Angels of Light, was playing the middle east downstairs in Cambridge, Mass. It was a shitty late winter weekday. I say shitty so that most of you who hate winter can relate. I love winter. I love the cold. I'll take that shit over a "beautiful" summer day any time. Fuck summer and fuck spring. Give me whites and greys over greens and blues and I'm good to go.
Sidenote: Isis opened this show. This was both wierd and awesome. I remember walking down the stairs and hearing an incredibly loud and heavy band playing and I thought to myself, "who the hell is this and why are they playing this show?". As soon as reached the room I could see that it was Isis. I think this was before Oceanic came out and they were playing all new material, which explained why I had no idea what I was walking downstairs into. I love watching a band that doesn't fit on the bill...it's like rooting for the awesome underdog that half the crowd could care less about but you get to sit there and have the time of your life.
Okay, back to the real story. Back to Angels of Light.
Of course, I went. Of course, I made myself look like an idiot.
This was not the first time I'd seen Gira perform, but it was the first time I thought I would get the chance to meet him.
The venue wasn't even half full, but those in attendance all had thier eyes focused intently on the stage. Every epic song was followed by a sort-of uneasy quiet, where Gira would say something in a low voice, trying to almost not be heard.
So, here's the fucked up part. The band made it through a good three-quarters of thier set before they were told that they have time for "one more song". Yeah, because of the wonderful Cambridge music curfew. There is an actual person who has to go up and tell this man that his band can only play one more song. I wouldn't be able to do this...especially at this show. How do you tell a goddamn musical icon that he has to stop playing before he wants to? Seriously....how?
It was obvious to everyone there that he (gira) was completely furious / disgusted. Rightly so. He exchanged some words (calm words) with the man who had to tell him this before he approached the microphone and said in so many words, "Well, everyone....looks like this is our last song. For some reason they've decided we're not good enough to play our full set. Anyone else find this completely ridiculous?"
This set off a minor wave of utter dissappointment in all of us who where there to watch the man do what he does. And there were those that were quite vocal about thier opinions of the club telling him to stop playing.
Gira simply looked out at all of us, pulled one of those half smiles that all older man have and said back to us, "I know...I know. But, don't worry. We'll be back very soon and you can rest assured we'll never play this goddamn place again. We'll play somewhere that appreciates art and music and doesn't worry about how much the bar has made....this is our last song and we thank all of you..."
Moments like that are hard to come by, at least the way I see them. He said it so perfect and at that very moment you could see the man who spent his life bleeding expression and would not let anyone get in his way. You saw a glimpse in his eyes of a young, bitter man still battling a world of regulations.
They played that last song. It felt extra intense, more because you could tell they were not ready to be done. The applause lasted five minutes, with everyone not wanting him to have to step down.
Of course, I went. Of course, I made myself look like an idiot.
This was not the first time I'd seen Gira perform, but it was the first time I thought I would get the chance to meet him.
The venue wasn't even half full, but those in attendance all had thier eyes focused intently on the stage. Every epic song was followed by a sort-of uneasy quiet, where Gira would say something in a low voice, trying to almost not be heard.
So, here's the fucked up part. The band made it through a good three-quarters of thier set before they were told that they have time for "one more song". Yeah, because of the wonderful Cambridge music curfew. There is an actual person who has to go up and tell this man that his band can only play one more song. I wouldn't be able to do this...especially at this show. How do you tell a goddamn musical icon that he has to stop playing before he wants to? Seriously....how?
It was obvious to everyone there that he (gira) was completely furious / disgusted. Rightly so. He exchanged some words (calm words) with the man who had to tell him this before he approached the microphone and said in so many words, "Well, everyone....looks like this is our last song. For some reason they've decided we're not good enough to play our full set. Anyone else find this completely ridiculous?"
This set off a minor wave of utter dissappointment in all of us who where there to watch the man do what he does. And there were those that were quite vocal about thier opinions of the club telling him to stop playing.
Gira simply looked out at all of us, pulled one of those half smiles that all older man have and said back to us, "I know...I know. But, don't worry. We'll be back very soon and you can rest assured we'll never play this goddamn place again. We'll play somewhere that appreciates art and music and doesn't worry about how much the bar has made....this is our last song and we thank all of you..."
Moments like that are hard to come by, at least the way I see them. He said it so perfect and at that very moment you could see the man who spent his life bleeding expression and would not let anyone get in his way. You saw a glimpse in his eyes of a young, bitter man still battling a world of regulations.
They played that last song. It felt extra intense, more because you could tell they were not ready to be done. The applause lasted five minutes, with everyone not wanting him to have to step down.
Ten minutes later, once all had settled and he had a few moments to gather himself, Gira retreated to the back merch table, which I had avoided up to this point, knowing full well I'd want one of everything I saw. He was signing copies of a special tour-only acoustic cd he had recorded by himself, complete with hand-drawn covers.
So, it's pretty much a given that I was buying one....and with this was my chance to finally meet the man who molded my approach to lyric-writing, who had fueled countless late night hours hidden behind a notebook. I stood in line for about fifteen minutes before it was my turn. Every time another person left the table I'd look up ahead to see how many more were left, all while trying to think of anything I could say that would be considered important enough to express. Finally, the girl ahead of me had finished her brief encounter.
There, sitting at a chair, was a quiet, older man looking tired.
I was face to face with the one and only Michael Gira.
Michael Gira of Swans.
So, it's pretty much a given that I was buying one....and with this was my chance to finally meet the man who molded my approach to lyric-writing, who had fueled countless late night hours hidden behind a notebook. I stood in line for about fifteen minutes before it was my turn. Every time another person left the table I'd look up ahead to see how many more were left, all while trying to think of anything I could say that would be considered important enough to express. Finally, the girl ahead of me had finished her brief encounter.
There, sitting at a chair, was a quiet, older man looking tired.
I was face to face with the one and only Michael Gira.
Michael Gira of Swans.
Unfortunately, I kept telling myself this instead of saying anything.
I suddenly snapped out of it, realizing he looked slightly confused. That may have had to do with the fact that I had the dumbest look on my face I'll ever have in my life.
The older man just simply smiled, tipped his hat and quietly said, "hello..."
to where I responded in an almost shouting voice, "HI!!!!!".
I suddenly snapped out of it, realizing he looked slightly confused. That may have had to do with the fact that I had the dumbest look on my face I'll ever have in my life.
The older man just simply smiled, tipped his hat and quietly said, "hello..."
to where I responded in an almost shouting voice, "HI!!!!!".
Oh, man....you're going to fuck this up. You goddamn idiot.
I wrote this "HI" in all capital letters because that's how it sounded in the quiet room, now that most had left. All of those except for the ones waiting behind me, who found this quite hysterical.
Once I had shrieked my greeting, he became completely and utterly entertained by me. A smile came to his face that, now that I think back, was more him trying not to laugh. I'm okay with that.
Once I had shrieked my greeting, he became completely and utterly entertained by me. A smile came to his face that, now that I think back, was more him trying not to laugh. I'm okay with that.
He then pointed to the cd I had in my hands and asked, "Would you like me to sign that?"
I had to think about this.
I had to think about this.
He's talking to you. He's asking you a question. Normal, well adjusted, non-psychos respond. You should pretend you're normal. That might help to get through this. Respond. Respond. Respond.
I handed him over the cd and asked me my name. I told him and he made a personalized note on the disc for me and everything was amazing. He handed it back, tipped his hat once again and said, "Thank you, Ryan. Have a good night."
Michael Gira told me to have a good night.
Awesome.
I'm so proud of you!! You made it through unscathed. Now just say "thank you" and be on your way. You've met the man. He knows your name. All is well and you have a great new memory.
I had taken the disc back, smiling from ear to ear and said to him, quiet, composed and oversure of myself at this point,
"Awesome. Thank you for this. You have a good night as well. Thanks...."
"Awesome. Thank you for this. You have a good night as well. Thanks...."
No....
See how that last "thanks" of mine trails off with dots? There's a reason for this. Since that moment, I've thought long and hard about it, and I don't think "thanks" was the last thing I said to him.
No....
I'm almost positve I said, "thanks, dude."
I'm almost positive I called Michael Gira of Swans a dude.
I'm almost positive I'm a complete fucking asshole.
I'm almost positive I called Michael Gira of Swans a dude.
I'm almost positive I'm a complete fucking asshole.
I need to go listen to greed/holy money.
