Everybody loves a spectacle. Lots of flashing lights and flames, and maybe a rotating stage just for kicks. Everything whizzes past your eyes and ears at such speed that a one second blink makes ten things you’ve missed. At the end you walk out babbling in loud voices while waiting for your hearing to come back. “So,” someone says a day later, “what was your favorite part?”
Erm. That thing with the elephants. Yeah, and the time that guy did that flip, the one where he almost crash-landed but didn’t. That. It’s hard to say what happened when there was so much going on. It’s all a blur. The Washington Post music blog reviewed U2’s concert at the end of September by talking mostly about the stage set. “It was stunning, surreal — oh, and a rock band played beneath it, too.” I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be the other way around.
That’s why I love simple, heartfelt performances. The “Macy’s Day Parade” video, or the one for “Last Night on Earth”. Just some guys with a guitar and a microphone. I love special effects as much as anyone, but after a while it feels overloaded. Maybe we don’t need a car chase, a shootout and a dramatic rescue all at once. Without the flash, the focus is on the song. It’s only then that you realize how incredibly gorgeous the music really is. Everything in black and white, with Billie Joe singing “And I’m thinking ’bout the only road, the one I’ve never known, and where it goes” while Mike and Tre plug away behind him. All those heart-stopping notes filmed in a junkyard. Because when you’re really good at something, it shows. Without any flashing lights.
December 11, 2009 at 10:16 pm [ Category: Essay, Personal ]
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