Music is Medicine
Once again, it’s been months since I’ve worked on this project. I write about how therapeutic writing is then slack off for months. Maybe I’m a bit uninspired in the strange often despairing year we’re somehow slogging through, but I’m still seeking solutions.
“Cause I can hardly see what’s in front of me
These days and those days too
God, where have you been?”
-Where Have You Been by Manchester Orchestra
As what they’re calling an “essential” worker, I’ve been at it none stop since mid-March, actually busier at work, which is a good thing. I’m happy to be employed with two teens at home that mostly take of themselves, albeit very messily, but this means no working from home or even having the option to quarantine. After plugging away what felt like endlessly, I decided, pretty much at my husband’s insistence to plan a getaway or reschedule our cancelled spring break trip to Florida. Florida!!!! Yes, I heard the cries of alarm, with their infection numbers skyrocketing and they’re refusal to believe scientists or take any precautions for spreading the virus but I wasn’t going to Miami, Tampa or Jacksonville. We were headed to a small town on the gulf coast with a population much smaller than Denver’s. I’ve pretty much been out in the world non-stop from the get go without infection or the option to hide from it so I needed a break. The day before we left, my dogs ganged up on the oldest in a viscious fight that left all three bloody. Probably irritable from the multiple ninety degree days and tired of hearing friends balk at my trip plans, threatening to avoid me upon my return for fear of my cooties, I sat in my newly revamped backyard and completely broke down. My husband was right (shh don’t tell him). It was time to GTFO!!!
“These mountains that you are carrying, you were only supposed to climb.”
Unknown
Nine days in Florida, third wheeling with my daughter and her girlfriend, stuffing our faces at every opportunity with seven trips to Rita’s Frozen Custard, three massages, and a swimming pool almost completely to ourselves, I began to feel like myself again.
I also remembered another piece of advice from Hoping Mechanisms which was music. Music is medicine. And while I’d been listening in my headphones, I hadn’t seen any live music or even watched bands streaming so I joined the Patreon of one of my favorite bands, Manchester Orchestra.
It’s revitalizing me. I used to go to 50-60 shows per year and I hadn’t seen a band play in four months. (Side Note: Post Malone’s livestream of Nirvana covers literally gave me life! To the point where I’m using words like ‘literally’ and “gave me life” like a teenage fangirl because live music from artists I love makes me feel 15 again and ALIVE!)
Manchester Orchestra’s Patreon (paid subscription with bonus material for ultimate concert-starved fans) included multiple live sets recorded in their homes. After watching the first one, I commented on their forum like a gushing groupie:
“So tight always!!!! ‘My daughter she barely speaks….To me’ ( a lyric from their song Pensacola) I took my daughter to see you guys at Summer Camp in Seattle a couple years ago. Last Thanksgiving, I took her to L.A. to see your Mean Everything To Nothing tour. ( They played their second album start to finish and it was transcendent) I get chills just thinking about that show, best all year and I saw the Raconteurs thrice (ew, David!) Best show maybe ever, the whole audience knew every word, all as passionate and in love with the album as we were. My daughter, she’s fifteen, and she SPEAKS to me, sharing in my fangirling and love for your band.”
My asshole teen daughter, fresh from a jaunt to FL with her girlfriend, spoiled brat that she is, teased me for my gushing comment but their live video made me feel unwilted. Dorky, I know and maybe a hint of Annie Wilkes’ Number One Fan but I LOVE these guys.
The first time I saw Manchester Orchestra was at Lollapalooza in Chicago 2011. I knew them from their song “I’ve Got Friends” and their set was in the early afternoon so I booked a morning flight so I wouldn’t miss them. All my friends flew in later but I wasn’t waiting around so I went to Grant Park alone and made my way to the front of the crowd. It was raining a bit and I was alone in a crowd of tens of thousands listening to this band sing about having friends,( please don’t think about low places because I loathe country music.) Somehow I didn’t feel alone. They played it last, even responding to the drunk bros chanting for “I’ve Got Friends” yeah yeah we’re gonna play it guys, it’s the hit so it’ll be last duh! Andy’s voice and his wit and the band’s absolute togetherness….I was hooked. I saw them multiple times after from Chicago again to almost every venue in my hometown Denver including the Auraria campus parking lot, to Riotfest in Denver and Chicago, to Summer Camp in Seattle. I saw them at Summit Music Hall and their opener was delayed so Andy Hull, their lead singer, opened for them playing some solo stuff. When some drunk guy tried to heckle him, shouting “Bring on Manchester!” Andy replied with “Do you know who I am?” I missed seeing Lorde and others the first night of the Life Is Beautiful music festival in Las Vegas because Manchester Orchestra was playing Friday night in Denver. I saw them open for Brand New at the Fillmore in Denver and actually left a few songs into Brand New’s set because I was there for the opener, my faves! (though I subsequently learned to love Brand New too and kick myself for leaving that show early)
Anyhow, I’m rambling. I tend to. Thank you for reading my love letter to this band. Don’t forget music is healing in this shit show/dumpster fire we’re calling 2020. Use any crutch you can find to get through this even if this means deleting “friends” to preserve your own mental well-being. Not to get political because damn! that could be a forty page post in and of itself and I’m too tired for that rabbit hole tonight but please PLEASE wear a mask, believe in science, send any helpful coping tips you have my way and maybe don’t be an asshole?
