Live music as revival: Finding comfort in company

I adore live music. Seeing a band live connects me to the music and the artist in a way that delivers a euphoria that is unmatched by merely listening to a studio recording. I have been to dozens of live shows since I was 11 years old when I saw Bon Jovi on their Slippery When Wet tour. Seeing 35 years of live music has revealed to me that not all shows are created equal. While ignoring the flat-out bad ones – and there have been only a few, honestly – lots of bands out there provide an exquisite show.

In the latter category, I would place bands like Tool, the Dave Matthews Band, Jason Isbell & The 400 Unit, Kings of Leon, Willie Nelson, Dawes, and many others. Those musical acts were at the height of their musical powers when I saw them, and they delivered finely crafted songs and stage shows that were well worth every penny spent to see them.

And then, there are those select few bands and artists who go beyond. These deliver not just a dynamite performance, but do it in a way that somehow captures lightning in a bottle creating a truly communal experience in which fan and artist bond in a way that can only be described as a religious experience. You probably know those types of shows: fans not only sing along to every song, with a fervency bordering on lunatic, but they raise hands, bellow to the sky, and sing themselves hoarse, while achieving a spiritual high rarely matched in any other setting.

Those kinds of shows are true masterpieces of performance and feats of spiritual communion with an audience. They are a magical elixir of emotionally powerful songs, arranged in a carefully curated order, and performed in a manner that carries the audience away on a musical journey that ends in a powerful and deep feeling of well-being, euphoria, and sacramental oneness with the songs, the band, and the other members of the audience.

Every band surely wants to achieve this rare kind of communion but not everyone manages to pull it off. While I wish every single live show were just like that, such a desire is like asking God for a daily miracle. For me, personally, each of the handful of times I have been to a show that reached such power, I have had the memory seared into me forever. I can still remember the feeling of the show, the high, and the wonder at the feeling caused by the band, the songs, and the audience.

The first bands to accomplish this for me were all punk bands in the mid-to-late 1990s. I had my musical awakening in the hair-band era of the late ‘80s, my high school years were soundtracked by grunge, and by the time I was in college, music for me had stagnated. And then a new punk era hit, and music was alive again.

I also happened to live in Washington, DC, at the time, which had some of the best live music clubs on the East Coast; I saw so many shows at the Black Cat and the Capitol Ballroom. No band could match the power of Blink-182, NOFX, and Avail. All three, in their way, took rooms full of sweaty (mostly) males and caused them to mosh their way to nirvana. The music was so loud, fast, and infectious, that you would be carried away to punk-rock bliss, drained of all energy, soaked with sweat, and ragged-voiced by the end. It was glorious.

Blink-182 did it with infectious pop-punk hooks and humor. NOFX did it with straight-up punk ferocity and noise. And Avail was like a jackhammer driving righteous, indignant, hardcore songs straight into your soul. At the time, I could not understand why those bands were not all household names, given how powerful their shows were (again, I was a self-focused post-adolescent male).

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Later on, after I had accumulated some more life experiences, seen some more of the world, and even started a family, the bands changed but the power of the live music remained and even grew. Seeing U2 in Philadelphia not too long after 9/11, and The Killers in Rome in 2007, were both highly-charged musical revivals. The audience sang along to every song, and the music was like a rollercoaster. Bruce Springsteen was the same, in Rome in 2008, though his is a uniquely motivational and jubilant experience. It’s like he is the president of Rock ‘N’ Roll-istan, delivering a stump speech that fires a crowd up to the point that each person solemnly vows to never retreat, nor surrender.

More recently, the Avett Brothers and Nathaniel Rateliff & the Nightsweats have provided me with this kind of experience. The Avetts do it through heartfelt positivity and sentimentality, backed up by thumping Americana folk tunes. Rateliff and his band, meanwhile, provide a show that is a foot-stomping saloon affair, replete with galloping pianos, horns, backup singers, and songs ranging from howling feel-good rock ‘n’ roll to anguished folk ballads that make the audience feel as desperate as Rateliff himself appears. And we all sing it with him.

This revival tradition remains in good hands in the present day, notwithstanding the prevalence of auto-tuned, instrument-less pop songs. Pearl Jam has been doing it for over 30 years, after all. Taylor Swift, meanwhile, brings tens of thousands of fans to tears, joy, and ecstasy each and every night. Eric Church inspires legions of devoted fans to attend every single show he ever puts on. Zach Bryan is perhaps the latest notable addition to this inspired cadre of musical magicians. Just watch the countless videos online of fans at his shows. In the best tradition, the shows are indeed an “all-night revival,” bringing comfort in company. Do yourself a favor: pop the bottle cap and partake of the lighting.

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