8/9/11

Seeing Jeff Mangum Live.

August 8, 2011.





There was so much driving and so much risk of the car breaking down, but Robert and I made it to the First Unitarian Church in Burlington. Here's the run-down of what may have been the best show I'll evereverever attend:

- After camping in the will-call line for a while, we're rewarded with really nice seats in the sixth row of pews. We wait for another hour and a half.

- Tall Firs comes on. Two unassuming [and hilarious] middle-aged guys with a knack for guitar interplay and deep, pained vocals. Loved it.

- Andrew, Scott, & Laura. I catch that Scott is Scott Spilane from Neutral Milk Hotel, but I forget what the other two are from. Their set bores me to death from its redundancy and they play for about a half-hour too long. I'm antsy at this point.

- All antsyness washes away as I catch my first glimpse of the man, the myth, the legend, Jeff Mangum. We applaud him as the background music stops. He makes sure his guitars are in place, makes a "one minute" motion, and then walks offstage. We applaud again. He re-enters. We applaud a third time. Natch.

He invites us to sing along and breaks into "O Comely" and suddenly it hits me just what is happening. I am witnessing the most elusive and, arguably, the most important independent musician shake the dust off of his work and play again. And it sounds as if he never left. That authentic Mangum (howl, warble, whatever you want to call it) is as solid as it was circa '97.

At one point, the PA system goes out. At first, everyone's a bit pissed, but Jeff has a solution. He plays unplugged. He steps down from the pulpit, brings a chair, and some of us crowd around him, crouched in the center aisle and awaiting with wide eyes. He starts "Two Headed Boy Pt. 2."

Many people in the pews sang along during the set, but the participation is most audible here without any microphone to support Jeff's voice. I'm just close enough to him so that I can hear his voice clearly. The voices mix perfectly and reverberate off the walls of the church. He eggs on the crowd to sing even louder and the "When we break..." verse swells like a hymn. I am certain I'll never experience anything quite like that again.

The song unfortunately has to end, and the PA comes back on. But I, along with a few others, stay seated in the middle aisle for the remainder of the set. Front and center. Even better.
---
After the show, Jeff gets more-or-less swarmed by fans. I go up and shake his hand. Then, nervously: "Uh, I just want to say... thanks for being a huge influence on me, musically." Someone scoffs behind me. He smiles, looks a bit stoned, maybe. And says something along the lines of "Yeah, man, thanks."

He signs the back of my ticket, but I pull it out from him mid-sign. I'm just that nervous. Still smiling, he signs again, and I head off, realizing how much I was shaking during that entire encounter.

Undeniably awkward, but easily, EASILY the pinnacle of my summer.

I could talk forever, but it's almost 4AM, I just got back from 7 hours of driving in a single day, and I'm desperate for sleep.

Here are the songs he played: (in a bit of a jumbled order, and missing a track or two, I think)

O Comely
In The Aeroplane Over The Sea
A Baby For Pree
Gardenhead/Leave Me Alone
Two Headed Boy Pt. 2
Two Headed Boy
True Love Will Find You In The End (Daniel Johnston cover)
Naomi
The King Of Carrot Flowers
Song Against Sex
Holland, 1945

Encore:
Engine
~-~

8/7/11

the sixth song


Oh it’s raining in December

And there’s not a single book that’s left unread

Except the phone book

Which gets smaller every year

Because there’s no one to talk to

So I’ll sit forever

through today

And wish the air would freeze the past in place

Because I’m not sure if I’ve gained or lost a friend.

Oh the slush forms in the driveway

And the clouds are piling thicker denser still

(I hate myself) oh everything went wrong

The words were meant to save and not to kill

So I’ll feel helpless

for today

And expect tomorrow to be more of the same

No, I’m not sure if I’ve gained or lost a friend

Well, everything’s been answered and

I know that I have nothing left to say

It’s hard to keep my head up

When I saw you driving so very far away

The grass is showing through the snow

The sun showed up just to say goodnight

Oh rest in peace you restless angels

Bear only love and mercy when it comes time

So I’ll sit forever

Through today

Watch the seasons pass without end

Because I’m not sure if I’ve gained or lost a friend

Dear Future Self, At Any Point

August 6, 2011 is one of the worst days of your life.

Signed,
Past Self

~-~

7/14/11

House

Goodnight, house.
Take care of the ghost in my absence.
A good day's rest
Could not shake this lingering sadness.

I've shut off all your lights
And I've left you all
Shiny and spotless.
There's a stone in my heart
And it's stuck there
Until I forget this.

So goodnight, house.
Take care of the ghost in my absence.
All my friends
Have gone but left vanishing remnants.

I hear organs
They're sounding and screaming
"Don't let go of it."
I see windows
They're frosting and snow
Has built in the basement.

So goodnight, house.
Take care of my ghost.

7/4/11

95

It picks up although
light pulses ahead.
All of the cars
are kicking up a
fog-laden spray
(a hovering stream)
on this expanse of an
interstate.

I am calm.
I am alive.
I am something.
I have aged.
I have substance.
I have fingers.
They are softly gripping the wheel.
At least, they were.

6/11/11

Is/Was

How simple I feel.

I don't have to be here.
Everyone's directing me to the door, whispering:
"You're free to leave."
But I'm persistent and I stay.
If not for just another day.
I do not have to be here.

I am involuntarily tethered.
I'm chained to the scuffed floors,
the scratched desks, the lite graffiti
scrawled on the whiteboard.
To this dirty and slowly absolved atmosphere,
to the ending of another year.
Even if I'm not a part of that end,
rather, a transitional ghost.

I know that I am just one part
of one cog in an ever-rotating
cluster of carousel gears.
But now that we are rusted,
this is not our end.
This is part of my forever.
This is part of our forever.
We are something bigger.
I can rest knowing we are giants,
in a thick forest
that comes up
only to our shoulders

6/6/11

Haunt Texture

Disengaged, tired.
Collapsing but too afraid to say it.
My fingers can not move from
Sleep paralysis.
13 hours in bed.
The sun is out, the shades are closed.
The water has left my eyes.
I've lost all will to write.
I am not getting up.
Anytime soon.

I am tumbling
Sideways.
I want to be there.
But my heart is slow.
And I am not getting up.

6/1/11

I Expected The World To Break Open Today.

I expected the world to break open today.
For my house to be lifted,
For lightning to topple trees,
And angry branches would smother me.

But nature hardly breathed,
Wrapped itself in tinted cellophane,
And slowly closed its eyes.

And in the morning, it will disrobe,
Stretch a bit, and I will still wonder
What it means to fight for something.

~-~