He does not frequent indie gigs in his neighborhood, but he does so every once in a while. Partly because he was in the scene for a while. Partly because there are very good music going on there that the mainstream cannot fathom.
He agrees that sometimes he cannot digest the material that gets played. The lack of control and filter and moderation leads to the showcase of music so eclectic and eccentric it often baffles his senses.
But he went ahead this time. To support a friend and to support his band. He also likes their music. He also agrees that the utmost support should be given to a community such as this, because mainstream ears will not ever. And also because the gig was located very near his prior arrangement venue.
He went without much expectation other than to unwind and relax. He went also in anticipation of his favorite band's upcoming album, to get a preview of what may go into the CD.
Before the event started his friend pulled him into the changing room for a chance at some smokes. There was already a circle of, possibly musicians gearing to play their set soon, handing some produce around while sampling it. He got hold of it. Take only two drags, His friend says. No more.
So he took two drags, but they were deep ones. He caught a glimpse of a guy chuckling while looking at him. Having done that he returned the produce, thanked them and left.
That night was the first night he experienced music like he never did in his entire life. The hall was pitch black save a projector showing random clips in all desaturated glory. For the first time he did not hear guitars and drums and bass. For the first time he heard the sunrise. The waves crashing against rocks. He heard the footsteps of dancers. He saw a man running through the fields of gold grass.
The darkness of a dead forest. No leaves on the trees. Mud for ground. Thunder crashing beyond the foggy horizon. The uncertainty, the heart beating fast.
The music went on as his emotion surged along. His eyes running all around so quickly, absorbing everything around him. But he would as soon forget the last thing he sees as his eyes pick up a new object. His thoughts wander in and out of the hall, in and out of the music. He thought of many things. Things he forgot he thought about just minutes ago. Or was it hours?
He lost track of time. He didn't know if he'd been sitting there for hours, or was it just a couple of minutes. He didn't know if it was a new song playing, or still the same one. He didn't know if he'd asked this question before. People walk pass. He didn't know he gave way to them until he saw them squeezing through the crowd in front.
He didn't know if anyone talked to him. And if he talked to anyone, he didn't remember what he said. Everything was a blur. But everything inside him was sharp as hell. He felt like falling, only to realize he was standing still and steady. Whenever he turned his head, he felt his inner head lagging behind his real one.
When he talked to people he would try to act normal. He would smile for a brief moment to show responsiveness in the conversation. Then he would suddenly realize the conversation long over, but the smile still plastered across his face. He would suddenly remember himself over reacting to a statement, but not remember if he actually reacted or that it was just his thought.
There was ambient music playing. Probably the most boring set he has ever heard. But indie musicians support each other even if they don't appreciate the music. So he stayed and tried to absorb it in. He closed his eyes as it began. It took him away. Swept him off his feet. Carried him to the skies and into a completely different world. He felt immediately the emotions laid upon the piano keys as they were struck. One by one. It felt like the despair of a crying titan. Slow. Almost silent. Solitary.
He drifted in and out of reality for the longest time. He didn't know for how long, but it didn't matter. He was probably standing as still as a log in the hall, not moving a single hair to the flow of the music playing in front. But inside he was more connected than anyone else in the hall. He felt every heart beat, every tear and every joy in every single chord.
This was probably the first time he'd ever felt a connection this deep to the music he was listening to. He finally understood the stories that were told behind banging heads, strings and pedals, synthesizers and drums. This was the first time he saw rains drops come out of keys. It was the most amazing and also the most terrifying night of his life. The latter true because of the former.
