I've recently returned from almost eight weeks of intermittent adventures in airplanes, cars, hotel rooms and concert halls. It was an experience I'd not imagined I would engage with when this year began. It has been a journey not solely of sound and sight but also of my very soul, as it has awoken parts of what seemed a dormant aspect of my inner reality for many years. Perhaps my time spent aloft, careening through cloud dust and squinting as stage lights sweep across my face will appear a canonical time in my life when reflected upon in my eventual 'final departure.'
My travels began in Denver-not far from my hometown in Salt Lake City. I'd been there many times before, but this trip meant more-it was my first experience interfacing with the subject of great amounts of creative energy. I had spent months lauding the efforts and intellectual outputs of this fellow, and gathering a following of friends across the globe with similar musical proclivities. Finally I would engage with the maker of my most recently adored aural pleasures directly. I was not so much thrilled or nervous as somehow sensing a state of fruition-that somehow my work to spread the word about the musical mastery of the man they call "Gotye" had brought me full-circle. But I was new to this additional layer transposed onto the otherwise quotidian experience of attending a concert. There was more to this-a sense of responsibility, to myself and others, and ultimately to the performer. I was not yet certain what response fit the experience at hand. I was new and naive and perhaps a bit fascinated in a quiet way.
The first show was at the historic and undeniably majestic Red Rocks. This was the site that staged U2 in their earliest days and the Beatles as they first braved the North American shores to find swarms of frenetic fans. It was the first North American show for Wally and the team in the tour, and what a venue to christen such an occasion!
The night would prove to be technically and physically taxing for the guys, but they left a stunning impression nonetheless. Colorful and bright images cast upon the rippling rock face behind them, and the music filled the rainy atmosphere with joy and excitement. A travel and altitude worn Wally gave his vocal and instrumental energy with brilliant results. After the show, we funneled into a room backstage with but a few other souls and a table of sugary comestibles. Exhausted from travel and a little influenced by the wafting weed smoke from the crowd, I was less that euphoric, but certainly interested to finally meet my muse. We sat in that quiet room for quite some time, talking about music and the like. I watched with a smile as Wally stuffed a doughnut into his mouth and wheeled about in his chair in a half-somnolent, half-playful state. The night ended as he was called away by his staff and we snapped a few humorous images of him in a staged "photobomb." I'll likely not forget his peels of laughter when we viewed the images on the screen before he was whisked away. "See you in Vegas!"
Then it was back home for a while, back to the nine-to-five (or eight-to-seven as is usual for me) for a time. I was at peace knowing that my motivations and efforts had purpose-to help represent the work of a wonderful and truly talented person whom I'd connected with beyond the limited lens of a computer screen.
It was two weeks later that I found myself back on a flight and headed southwest to Las Vegas for another evening in the arms of some of my most beloved sounds. I felt a bit less excited per se, and more prepared to gather an experience to share and relate with those who had joined me in my 'work.'
I could go on about that evening for quite a time, especially the moment at which my newly favorite music man gave a nod to me from the stage that few in the audience even noticed. I could also digress about the challengingly boisterous audience who prompted Wally to halt the performance of the soft and bittersweet Bronte. I could talk of many things that night, but none of them would feel very real to me translated in words on a screen. What I have are my memories, "in the attic in my mind."
It was after that goodbye that I returned to an opulent hotel suite just floors above the Vegas House of Blues to a certain kind of headspace-part thankful and part saddened. What did all of this mean to me? I was tired, so very much so, yet not remotely as much as Wally and his resilient crew. I suppose I was merely deep in genuinely processing the experiences and making some inner meaning of them that no one but me would ever really touch.
It was yet again time to return to the proverbial grind. But there were things to consider, and a sense of missing closure that I had to sit with for a bit before I could find how it fit the puzzle.
It would be just days until I would be making arrangements for another journey, this time father off and away, to see the show once more. I would go about my usual life for some time until I would find myself airborne again.
Another night, another stage, another balance of joys and frustrations. That was my most recent encounter, just days passed, at the second-to-last North American show for this tour. It was lovely and a little melancholy all at once. I had forged a bond with the music and the maker, one which would be left to linger indefinitely and without concrete resolution.
It was a wonderful night-I cannot deny. Perhaps most salient was meeting fellow members of the community of fans I had created, and witnessing their joy. To share such a moment is perhaps the strongest foundation of human connection, and it warmed me and reminded me that my work had not only touched many, but had become something far more than I could have ever asked. I was overcome with thankfulness and joy to see the results of my labors and those of my cohorts. The night came with some lovely meetings including with tour staff, with the enthusiastic and charming Jonti, two costumed fans and followers of the Wall-Nuts, and my dear Nut friends. Although the reunion with Wally after the show was necessarily rushed (not like the previous) due to a demanding schedule, I was quickly greeted with open arms and a warm and friendly familiar face as I lingered in the corner of the room making space for others to have their meetings. I quickly greeted Tash and wished her well. There were no real goodbyes, there was no time for such things on this occasion, so I watched from my corner as Wally quickly made the rounds and departed hurriedly.I snapped some sudden images of him as he walked out, only partially aware that I would not know the next time I would see him in 'real-life' again.
I find that extraordinary adventures become more routine over time. That sense seems to linger inconveniently until the experience reaches it's inevitable termination. Magic sometimes only seems as such in retrospect, when one finds themselves in quiet longing to return to the experience after it has gone.
There are many feelings to sit with now-I am full of thanks and gratitude, but also some wishes that I would have done certain things differently. Perhaps I could have said something I meant to say but did not, perhaps I could have been more 'selfish' and engaged more rather than stepping back for the sake of others. But in the end I know I acted as my heart and mind felt right, and I am glad those around me were given a chance to interact with the musician we all cherish. His work is shared with all of us-I am immeasurably thankful to have interfaced with it as I did, and I can never really express to Wally my gratitude, for myself and for those others with whom he shared his limited and precious time.
So what happens now? Well, I am committed. I choose to engage with this work indefinitely, to accept the ambiguity that comes inherent in the process, and to make space for my fellow fans and friends to share in the experiences openly. The connections to brilliant and warm people that have been forged in this process are priceless, and I will do all I can to maintain them in realization that so many things in life can be lost in carelessness.
So onward I go, with my newfound friends and allies in tow. I look forward to the moments for those still waiting, and to reminisce from time-to-time with others on those already passed into memory. It has been a wonderful journey, and I hope with all my heart to someday return to it again. Until then I return to my work here, to help open hearts to the gifts given in the music, the message....and the joy shared in its wake.
With immense appreciation for Wally, his supporters and all of my fan friends,
-Paige
"Mum Nut"
14 October, 2012
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Thanks!
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I'm genuinely joyful for Wally and his collaborators today. Although they may be just another few mantle-tchotchkes at the material level, the three Grammy's he flies home with are a symbol of the brilliant art he chose to risk committing to twelve-odd years ago. That profound risk-and the courage and audacity that drove it-is what brings us all the brilliant music we collectively treasure today. There's no weight in gold that can pay that debt of gratitude, but hell....maybe a Record of the Year citation helps.
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