Wow.
There are performers that I enjoy seeing, and there is music that I like listening to. There are concerts that are perfectly enjoyable for their mix of both of these ingredients.
And then there are concerts which amount to nothing less than a magical experience.
I first saw Jason Webley at the Ché Café in San Diego. It’s a little vegan co-op near the Revelle campus where I resided my freshman year, and I went with friends from my suite more out of a spirit of adventure than anything else. A cheap concert? At a place that I’d never been before? Within walking distance? Awesomesauce!
But unlike many other similarly situated concerts that I would attend in college this one stuck with me. Part of it was the location. The Ché isn’t a huge space and it wears its years as a college art-hangout and underground music location with pride. It’s decorated inside and out with murals, graffiti, and a motley collection of furniture which is sometimes more duct tape than actual furnishings.
So the concert was cozy, with all of the fans huddled close wherever they could find room and with Jason right there in the middle of it all. It almost felt more like a house party than anything else and his unique brand of entertainment encouraged us to get even closer to our neighbors. What do I mean by that? Well, let’s just say that tickling, shouting, and spinning round and round in order to get us “drunk” enough to sing drinking songs while arm in arm and swaying was all part of the show.
I went and saw him again every time that he came to UCSD, and elsewhere in San Diego. And when I moved back to Tucson after college I was delighted to find that my hometown was one of the places that he occasionally stopped by. And despite the fact that the concerts were at bigger, and less cozy and filled with college students venues than the Ché, every show was as awesome as I remembered.
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| Photo credits at bottom of page |
So when I knew that I would be moving to Seattle there was a small, but joyful, voice that reminded me that this is sir Webley’s home base, and that there would probably be tons of concerts in my future. It wasn’t long after I made my move official that I hit the mailing list just to see what craziness would be in store for me.
Only to find that he had decided to take a break from performing. I was devastated. Not only was he going to take a break starting on 11-11-11, but he was going to be touring the world before that- going to visit every single place that he had ever performed before. This meant that he wasn’t going to be performing in Seattle, the place I had just moved to.
There was one concert on the calendar, however, the very last one that he would give before his break. Not knowing what else to do I went ahead and snagged a ticket to that show as soon as they came on sale.
This was the right decision.
When I showed up to the Moore I was met with a line that stretched around the building and filled with the most eclectic mix of people. There were accordionists on the corner playing eighties pop hits, traditional Seattle hipsters in their scarves and thick-rimmed glasses, elderly couples clutching cushions tight to their chests, groups from as far away as Australia complaining about the cold, and families with young children and tweens gabbling about their excitement.
My NaNo sweatshirt got a shout-out from the girl in front of me, colored duct-tape flowers bright against her dark hair, and the thirty-something couple behind me joined in in singing “I Want to Take You There” at the top of our lungs accompanied by the accordionists.
The Moore was packed. I don’t know if they sold out or if everyone there was just excited enough that their presence seemed to fill the place. People hung over the balconies to get a closer look at the stage, people on the floor with me waved back up at them, groups gathered in the aisles caught up on what had happened since the last time they had met.
But there was a show to start, and we weren’t wasting any time. The lights dimmed, Jason came out, and we all cheered as rambunctiously and loudly as any group meeting an old friend after a long absence.
If that had been all that there was, just a huge group of people super excited for the show and the performer we were waiting to see, then I would have been content. But oh no, there was so much more.
After a couple of songs the band started to play the opening of Icarus, but rather than Jason singing the introduction we instead heard a woman. Jason looked as confused as the rest of us and sang the next verse back to the disembodied voice. Again, the voice answered- as loudly and upset as the song called for- and then who should run out on stage but Amanda Palmer.
And of course, if Amanda Palmer is in residence then there are others. That song was followed by another- “Elephant”- which brought out Neil Gaiman and the Evelyn Sisters. The Evelyn Sisters… no. Here, a picture is worth more than words here.
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| See? |
They were upset because Elephant was their song, and they demanded an apology. Soon they were playing their own song, followed by Neil telling the story of how Jason had orchestrated his bachelor’s party and reciting a poem about how it had all happened. Then Jason read his own creation, a short children’s story that was the closest he came the entire show to explaining why he was taking a break.
Somewhere in the middle of all of this giant red balloons made their way into the audience, dried leaves were thrown at us, more musicians came and went from the stage than I would have thought possible, and I came close to losing my voice.
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| Jason also performed a love song that he had written for a friend’s wedding while Neil and Amanda and aforementioned couple looked on. It was adorable. |
The concert built to a feverish intensity as twitching dancers imitated salmon spawning, everyone tickled our neighbors and as bottles filled with pennies were thrown to the audience to shake in time to the beat. Almost everyone was standing and dancing at this point, twirling around as best they could in the small concert seats, holding on to strangers and swaying to the softer tunes. In the middle of the headiest point Jason blew up a giant balloon and climbed inside- dancing like a crazed river dancer slowly being consumed by a tomato.
Then, just as it reached a little after 11 the show calmed down. We talked about armistice day and had a brief moment of silence for all those who have been affected by war. Then, as the clock moved from 11:10 to 11:11, two giant one’s fell from the ceiling, balloons cascaded down upon the audience, people dressed as bright blue ones rushed out to dance, and Jason played his last songs.
But the show wasn’t over. Oh no, he grabbed a huge bundle of red balloons and marched out of the Moore- and the entire audience streamed out behind him.
It was nearly midnight at this point, so the streets were nearly empty as the crowds rushed to catch up with him. And good thing, because we overflowed off the sidewalk and walked in the middle of the street, half-crazed by the musical fever rushing through our veins and the cold finger of night air on our skin. As we walked we sang the chorus of his drinking song softly to ourselves, repeating it back in slow refrain until
it was more hymn than barroom accompaniment.
We walked quite a ways, all the way down to the sculpture garden, where we found tiki torches lined up on a beach to greet us. We poured down to the edge of the water where we watched Jason say farewell to his touring hat- tying it to the balloons and launching it off into the sky.
Then he stripped down to his skinnies and jumped into the freezing water of the bay, his breaststroke delivering him quickly to the boat that waited offshore. He climbed aboard as we sang goodbye and, with a lighting of the lanterns and a raising of the sails, he disappeared into the night.
And we all scattered back to our homes, skipping and humming, our bright smiles a surprise to those who met us on the darkened streets of the Seattle night.
Photo Credits!
http://www.flickr.com/photos/ohnobody/page2/
http://photosbyelisa.com/2011/11/on-the-eleveniest-day-ever-jason-webley-at-the-moore-11-11-11.html