I've said (mostly to myself) several times during these recent months of the pandemic how much I miss live music. It is something that absolutely fuels me. This has been the longest 'dry spell' I've ever experienced in my adult life and it is wearing on me. I didn't realize how much until this afternoon.
Two years ago I spent 48 hours celebrating a good friend's birthday in Colorado, watching The Revivalists perform at Red Rocks for the first time. Awesome experience, obviously. Thinking back on that experience today, I thought it would be a good idea to listen to a 2019 recording of a show while I was hanging out with Ruby. The first few notes unexpectedly hit me pretty hard. I was overcome with a really heavy feeling in my chest... like grief, which is kind of crazy, right?
That stinks.
Music is something that always lifts my mood, especially live music, especially from New Orleans, but listening to it today had the opposite effect and I'm not sure how to reconcile that. For as long as I can remember (maybe with the introduction of kids into my life), live shows have provided a bit of a release for me. Regardless of what is going on, while the music is playing, I'm able to unload it all at the door: no parental worries (even when and maybe even especially when they are with me), no responsibilities, no anything other than being present in that moment. I'm such a responsibility-wearing-uptight-type-A that being 100% present is hard for me. So today I'm mourning the last seven-ish months of missed music, including my beloved Jazz Fest.
I know live shows will return, andI know they will be better than ever, but right now that release is not here and I think I need it more than I realized.
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