Just Do It!
The other night, a friend and I sallied forth to the venerable Cafe Wha? in New York City's Greenwich Village to watch a Pink Floyd tribute band commemorate the 51st anniversary of Dark Side of the Moon. My introduction to JT Curtis and his project Pompeii Floyd, whom I had first seen just a few weeks earlier in a venue three miles from my home (that I also didn't know existed despite 15+ years in this house), was just a random thing of the sort that can happen any time to any of us.
That “random thing” tells its own tale.
First, the backdrop.
I am fortunate to be among those who get frissons, aka goosebumps, aka skingasms, from music. Some of the most blissful moments I’ve ever experienced were at live music events, and I will remember the best ones for the rest of my life.
Two worth noting:
The first: Hearing the chorus burst out in the fourth movement of Beethoven's Ninth at Carnegie Hall last year. Not my first Ninth, but the most memorable. It literally took my breath away.
Just in case the copyright curmudgeons get cranky at this share, here’s another performance. Not as thunderous, but close.
The second: Hearing Dave Lombardo (of Slayer) get on Lars Ulrich's (of Metallica) drum kit during the all-together encore at The Big 4 (Anthrax, Megadeth, Slayer, Metallica) concert at Yankee Stadium in 2011, and blow the stadium up. The clip, absent the gazillion watts of sound thumping into your bones it simply cannot convey the moment, but watch how the other musicians react to get an idea:
42,000 people knew, then and there, who the best drummer in metal was. Even in recollection, I get goosebumps.
Most of us can root around in our memories for moments that lit us up, that crowded out every stray thought, and made us thrilled to be alive in that moment. The truly epic ones may be infrequent, but I'm sure we all have many more that were "good" to "great."
Now, the tale:
The COVID lockdown was a miserable time for just about everyone. Once it ended, I made a resolution, one that I have kept far more than any New Year's declaration I can recall.
It was a simple one:
See more live music.
So I did. The Pompeii Floyd show was my thirty-ninth since that inflection point two years ago, and my sixth in 2024. I have another thirteen shows on my calendar this year, and that's just through August. That number will grow as more bands announce more dates.
All it took was a decision and a minor mindset adjustment.
That adjustment was in two parts: my realization that I could actually go to a show solo without feeling weird if I couldn't find interested companions; and the embrace of new acts and smaller venues, so that I wasn’t constricted by “favorites” and the limitations that come with fixating on stadium and arena shows.
The power of the Internet made it easy. A site called bandsintown.com has been a boon, as have social media, band websites, and mailing lists from venues within my acceptable radius of travel.
Two months ago, I had not heard of Pompeii Floyd. A year ago, I bought a couple tickets to see another unknown-to-me band, Lez Zeppelin, based on nothing more than Led Zeppelin being one of my favorite bands and an email from a nearby venue informing me that an "all-girl" (their description) tribute to the mighty LZ was playing. My friend and I were blown away, so much so that, when the band said "we're playing in NYC next week," I grabbed two tickets and another friend and saw them again. When I saw them (for the fourth time) this past January, I got to chatting with a couple people who were also in the front row. When one of them heard I hailed from where I do, he mentioned Pompeii Floyd and the local theater I'd never heard of. I figured, “why not?” The next morning I bought a ticket. I enjoyed the show so much that, when I heard they were playing Cafe Wha?, I grabbed a couple tix and dragged a friend along. Again, a really great show, and I look forward to seeing them again soon. Meanwhile, I saw Lez Zeppelin for a fifth time a few weeks ago, and have plans to attend three more of their shows this spring.
Even in the almighty information age, word of mouth still matters.
My "see more live music" resolution not only persists, it has taken on a life of its own, and I’ve lured a few friends into the same “more live music” mindset.
What's the point of all this? It's in the vein of my recent bit about "priceless joy." If there's something that makes you happy, do more of it. There's really no magic to it, nor much effort, just a bit of willpower. Once you get rolling, it becomes easier to keep rolling. Dynamic and rollin friction are weaker than static friction. An object in motion tends to say in motion.
Obviously, it doesn't have to be live music. We all have our own jams, and they shouldn't be hard to figure out. Nor does it have to be one thing to the exclusion of others.
COVID lockdowns ripped a couple years of life away from each of us. We can't get those back, but we can use them to prompt us.
To little things. Going to a music performance isn't a major commitment - it's a couple or a few hours out of one day, and a few bucks out of our pockets. It's not a big deal, and it shouldn't be. Same for countless other things that bring us happiness.
Just do it.
Obviously, or perhaps not, I lifted the title of today's bit from a Nike marketing campaign. I did a quick dive into the phrase via Internet search, and discovered that a - the campaign began in 1988; b - the slogan is still in use and considered one of the great campaigns of history; c - it was inspired by the last words of convicted murderer Gary Gilmore prior to his execution by firing squad in 1977. Gilmore said "Let's do it,” but close enough.
Context matters, of course.
The macabre aside, you know who else said "Let's do it?" Otter and Bluto from the Delta Tau Chi fraternity at Faber College. In 1962. Or, in 1977, if you want to burst the bubble.
John Blutarsky became a senator, despite (or perhaps because of) seven years of college down the drain. The possibilities are endless.
And, a game. There are seventeen acts represented in the montage. How many can you name?
Back in the day I’d go to several concerts a month and ran sound for several local bands. Rarely go anymore. Tickets are just too expensive. Rather watch a dvd with a good sound system of the bands back in their prime.