02-20-10 Chicago, IL:
It’s Saturday night in Chicago. I’m listening to When the Devil’s Loose by A.A. Bondy and going mad with time and wine. As usual, I’ve been thinking about a lot of things, too many things. I’ve been thinking about where I am, where I’ve been and where I’m going. And for some reason today, I can’t stop thinking about a Bondy show I was at on June 18, 2009. I was so lucky to be there.
Bondy ended the set standing on the floor with the crowd, in the middle of the circle we formed around him. He sang three songs, and we sang three songs. It was one of those magical moments that you carry with you, for comfort and forever. It’s there when you need it and when you don’t. But of course, you always need it.
I’ve talked with people who were at the show on that summer night, people I didn’t know until after it, and the tears that filled their eyes are the same ones that washed over mine. We stood around Bondy like one might stand around a fire, tossing in some sick and heavy longing, and watching it rise into a gorgeous and drifting smoke.
But I’m not talking about that kind of longing. No, the kind I’m talking about would spill out over thousands of miles and overflow the world.
If there’s one thing this strange place has supplied me with no shortage of, it’s longing. It’s everywhere I look, and everywhere I close my eyes. A good amount of longing is essential to anyone who really wants to do anything, I feel. But I’m not talking about that kind of longing. No, the kind I’m talking about would spill out over thousands of miles and overflow the world.
But it’s within this longing where the beautiful music starts, where faraway cities become home, and words become gods. It’s within this longing where things grow wild and sweet on a Saturday night, even with the understanding that no matter where you go, there’s no escaping the horrors of a Sunday.
I don’t want it all, but the things I want, I want real bad.
08-21-10 Chicago, IL:
It’s Saturday night in Chicago. Last night, I photographed a Slayer concert. Tonight, I’m supposed to write about it. But a concert, to me, has always been a sort of endpoint, the last line in a chapter. So… where to begin?
As a teenager battling teen age in the 1990s, there were some things I felt I’d never be without: anger, sadness, the hours to fill and the endless conflicts that they ignited… etc. And I was right. If your teenage years were somehow spent without these things, I’m sorry. I don’t know how else one might find a place to put them, a use for them. I found my way down many damaged roads, but I also found my way to music. Very early on, I discovered that I could store my sadness in a sad song—the same way one might turn into a skid to move out of it. I learned I could do the same with my anger: The simple anger that comes when one sees another throwing their trash on the ground, or the more complex anger that comes on around birth and eventually seeks roads the size of continents down which to run.
For this anger, there is Slayer.
Slayer’s worth lies in the expression of anger that they’ve spent three decades cultivating, refining. Their music provides what all music should: release and relief. It is athletic; both physically and mentally. While I have good reason to believe that I’ve left my mind, listening to Slayer while jumping rope has brought tears to my eyes on more than one occasion. They are not tears of joy or sadness—they are tears of relief. Momentary relief. The fleeting relief of letting it all out.
Anger is not the problem. It is a catalyst toward the solution.
And it’s at this point of relief where we realize the value of our anger. It is not something that should be numbed or ignored. It should be embraced. It should be acknowledged and channeled. It is a powerful tool and we all have it. It is up to us to find it if we’ve lost it, and to find a positive direction for it.
Anger is not the problem. It is a catalyst toward the solution.
When done well, that’s the point that this breed of music makes best. And Slayer does it better than everyone—and they did it once more at the UIC Pavilion on Friday night.