IS THAT THE QUESTION, AND IF SO

luisgomes10

 “But why are you going to see them again?” If you are reading this, you probably had to answer this question more times than you care to remember.

You approach it nonchalantly with: yes I have done a few shows this tour and some throughout the years. Not that many actually (and you think to yourself - actually not enough at all).

If they push you will say… yes close to 40 times…

“WOW. So they know you by now?” Well not really. They play for 10 or 20 thousand everyday. How would they know me?

“But haven’t you heard those same songs already? Are they still releasing new records?” Well kind of… And you lose the energy to continue.

Sometimes someone comes along and asks with genuine curiosity and you are pushed to give the proper answer that makes you reflect… Why do you really do it?

 The answer is not easy but it is simple: the music got you. Got you in the proper time. The time you were young and working through all the new strange feelings. It got you and decided to stay with you forever, with very little decision on your part. It helped you ache. It helped you rebel. It helped you to fall in love and to stand in sorrow. Clouds rolled by. Years as well. Then the music helped you to reminisce and to remember. It helped you to reflect and to still feel alive. It helps you to grow old as the old music gets expanded every 2 to 4 years with more new music.

You hear any small string of notes and you get the jolt. You know the song. It’s part of you and you know how it feels. You know how all of them feel actually. Some you know the full lyrics to, some just sensations. You get goosebumps. I do. Everytime.

This is the kernel. This is how it stings. Then they bring some anxiety to it by making you want all the music and making it a guess which segments you will get each day. It pushes you to try harder to be everywhere. You want to feel it more and as varied as possible. First you collect the songs. Then the total songs of each record. Then the openers and the closers. And the rarities and your favourites. Then you miss your white whale song by one show and you promise… next time I will get it if I do a few more shows…

You collect the live shows because they are the perfect encapsulation of the music expressed live with no safety net. Tailor made and crafted to the city, to the moment and to the context they happen in. Served in a manner that makes them as unpredictable as unique.

You talk to different people and it comes out with the same meaning in different words: it’s the soundtrack to my life; it saved my life; it’s the voice of my soul; it got me through the roughest times of my life.

Why we connected with this music and not some other? It’s obviously a mystery and not solvable by science.

Then travelling is fun. Travelling with friends is a lot of fun. Getting away from work and responsibilities for a while is increasingly needed. Making new friends from all over the world and meeting them in different cities every couple of years is a blast. But why?

Maybe for the feeling of belonging? Maybe to feel this person understands me? Probably because feeling this music surrounded by people who are feeling it the same way as you gives you some inner confort. The comfort of sharing that experience with someone who understands it the same way? Don’t know… I do know how it feels and when you look around at the ones screaming that they are still alive with you. I am sure you feel it too.

 Amsterdam day I is the day of disappointment, unexpectedly not because of planes’ troubles.. Next to the venue 2 guitars are helping a group of people to express their sadness in a singalong. TV crews are around to document the moment. It’s Alive playing. I find someone next to me recording on the phone, teary eyed. ‘It’s my son!’ comes out first. Then we recognise each other from Berlin, from an extra ticket trade. ‘He brought the guitar to play in the queue… This would be his first Pearl Jam show…” she says in disappointment. At the end of the song I say goodbye ‘You should be proud. He made us both cry today’. He did and I bet those were not the only tears of disappointment the absence of our music brought to the world that day.

I joke with someone in the queue In Amsterdam II that he‘s trying to cut the line. He claims he’s old and needs to stand against the barrier to rest his legs, as he didn’t bring his rest socks. He’s getting older as we all are. I meet his son and it’s his first Pearl Jam non festival show. I tell him ‘oh, your first proper one’. We talk a little more about how his friends don’t know Pearl Jam, and the conversation ends with the father with twinkling eyes saying ‘oh… he discovered Pearl Jam by himself.”. His son gets his music. Would love to see his face when he left the show. He got a very ’proper’ one for his first.

This is not the only father or mother you see travelling with their sons and daughters. Checking if they get it.

My countrymen are everywhere. I set some time to spend together but you end up bumping into each other by coincidence or not. I sit down for lunch with the travelling buddies in Krakow, and 2 hours later, there’s people from Portugal, Germany, Poland and Norway sharing the same table and food. Without a script everyone feels attracted and bound to each other. Talk comes easily and people are curious. Probably trying to understand what connects us all and why being 1 or 2 years apart feels like a couple of hours on reconnecting. The same repeats through bars and restaurants in all these cities. Mostly unscripted and organically.

 The touring groups mingle and change. Some and from the Bugs mailing list, some the portuguese pj board. Others are friends of a friend of a friend I traded VCDs with in 2000. Some new friends that helped with extra tickets or hotels. Also the girls from Russia and Lithuania that were gentle enough to listen to the Ed’s Taormina meeting story, on a cool night in Barolo. You try to remember the names and sometimes you don’t. Sometimes you do, but then you don’t remember the guy desperately tried to sell your extra ticket in Barcelona and you feel bad - he still offers you some beer.

In every other city I bump into a group of German friends. Then another. All met through one single guy (or dear friend) from mIRC and Red Mosquito Board in 2000. We try to set meeting places but mostly meet by chance. We are instantly happy and (half) remembering the Berlin show we had together…

With another friend from Germany the meeting is always at the same place - at the mosh pit, if there’s one, around encore time. We have jumped together to RITFW in more cities than I can remember. There are pictures and we are still ending up soaked in sweat. There’s also the canadian couple from karaoke in Amsterdam some year, or the Krakow party some other year. This time we share Berlin, and we will share it forever.

There’s the nice british gentleman you always reminisce about the rowdy girl in Copenhagen pit in 2014.

So many others.

And then there’s the bond you keep with the people you actually travel with. Memories like fingerprints… stories for life.

The cancellations take its toll. I am saddened by my friend that is missing his only show in Prague, but is still following and cheering for us by whatsapp. By getting the notice 15 minutes away from Ziggo Dome. By meeting people doing 3 shows and getting 2 cancelled. Not cool.

The cancellations bring the reason to the forefront again. Travelling and nice food and drinks are cool, but something is missing. THE THING is missing. Our music.

Every show I try to guess the opener and fail 100% of the time. I get Fatal for the first time and I wish for Oceans every show, fearing it will be played in Vienna. And I will still be wishing for it in the next tour.

 Not a single of the 7 out of 9 planned shows were a disappointment. All worth it. All different. All special. All had our music dressed and tidied up just the right way for that moment. In hindsight, 7 has been the number of the shows I did the last 3 or 4 tours… so maybe I got too greedy.

In reality it’s not hard to explain. It’s quite easy even, if the person asking the why question deserves the proper answer: it’s all about the music and the people that love it, because they feel like your people. Why this is my/your music is an unanswerable question.

 When the goosebumps go away it will be time to stop. Until then…

Sea

That was beautiful. Thank you for sharing.

PJNB

That was a great read!