New York, New York

I went to New York last month. I saw a few familiar faces, and got aquatinted with some new ones. I had a really great time. Here are some pictures from my trip.

Bon Iver

Patty here. So it’s sad really, that I don’t get excited about shows much any more. Going to a lot of them can do that to you. I don’t wait in line before doors. I don’t battle the crowd for the best view. I don’t take pictures to capture a moment that, who are we kidding, can’t really be captured. And I especially don’t expect to leave a show feeling rejuvenated, alive, or cleansed. But I can’t say that Ashley or I didn’t feel all of those things and more leaving through the double doors of The Paramount on Sunday.

It’s the only venue in town that could have housed the beautiful music of Bon Iver, the passionate voice of Justin Vernon, suspended somewhere between a whisper and a yell. The majestic walls of The Paramount theatre gave way to acoustics that didn’t request but demanded your attention, unlike the humble members of the band. They unassumingly took the stage and opened the set with “Flume.” Later on in the set, a new light was shed on the 80s hit song “Your Love,” in a completely original, non-cheesy sort of way.

Vernon was left alone on stage in a single spotlight for “Re:Stacks,” one of my favorites where he manages to express some heavy sentiments with minimal lyrics. To my surprise, this one made watery things start coming out of my eyes. I quickly wiped them away feeling embarrassed and vulnerable. But I realized I wasn’t the only one quickly turning into a blubbering baby, when I heard sniffles coming from every direction. I leaned back in my chair and Ashley asked me if I was crying. As if it wasn't obvious, "Yes." - "Me too," she said. The music of Bon Iver lends itself extremely well to personal reflection, which became physically evident that night.

There is detail in the album, For Emma, Forever Ago, which you wouldn’t think could be properly conveyed on stage, but you’d be wrong. All of the musicians were constantly aware of the sounds being made, as if they knew we could all hear them breathing. All the audible elements, all of what some people might refer to as, the “noise” was part of an orchestrated plan. I suppose that’s redundant, but it’s like watching a movie and seeing all the atmosphere shots, the shots of wind blowing the leaves, coffee steaming from a mug, a desk full of paperwork. The audience got a full context of each composition. It almost transported me to the remote cabin in Northwestern Wisconsin, where Vernon originally wrote, and recorded most of the album.

There was a moment in particular that is worth recounting. Vernon prefaced the closing song, “Wolves (Act I and II),” with a request that the audience help sing the chorus line. At this point, emotionally drained and willing, we would have done just about whatever he wanted us to. Everyone began softly singing, “what might’ve been lost,” in unison. The song kept building as the chorus slowly got louder, as the drums got more intense, and the guitars became almost harsh. It felt like a huge surge of emotional release, as if everyone was letting go all at once.

It’s almost futile trying to explain this experience, because my words inevitably won’t do this show justice. That being said, Bon Iver was the best, most impassioned performance Ashley and I have ever seen in our lives. But then again I’m only 22, so there’s still time for topping.

The camera is not my medium of choice; I prefer the pen. But here is a video of Bon Iver's performance of "Skinny Love."

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This Bon Iver concert review was published in Soundcheck Magazine.