Wednesday, August 02, 2006
One I missed 4 yz. Reposted from 27/11/2005
There is a quietness between us. That thing of the unsaid. It's a very NZ thing that at once a party may be dancing in your head and very little is spoken but we are moved - we are witness under the layers of insecurity to something we instinctively know is bigger and deserves a loud response but gets an understated acknowledgement - that subtle lifting of a man's head that says everything - respect, hello, I agree, you're welcome. I know it well and I love it about us. It deserves celebration and tonight listening side-of-stage to Little Bushman I thought how apt it is to be touring with such a team as ours. I am so proud of my band! I'm so proud of our crew! There is a quietness between us. That thing of the unsaid.
Tonight in Wanganui at the Opera House (built in 1899, the first theatre in the southern hemisphere to be electrically DC powered) the music came together in just such a celebration.
The great NZ reticence is countered by a belly of joy we all share. To witness the belly-laugh in the provinces is special and messy. I have met people on this tour that would otherwise be the ones you don't meet in the cue at a gas station. That fate would have us not meeting like we do in these generic spaces always puzzles and intrigues me - the great unsaid again.
But to confront the joy and frustration of life and herd a community into a building and catch them at their best is a big ask at the very least and ultimately, if you get it right, an event. This is rock and roll - shake it up and be present in one room together. 'If the walls could talk!' I exclaim to Fred the theatre manager. Don't mention the Scottish play his eyebrows tell me.
There are levels of intimacy that songs evoke and when it comes to the crunch I am happy to glimpse a face that says 'I just broke up with her' or 'I just lost my brother' and know that through thick and thin the songs connect us somehow.
There is a quietness between us. That thing of the unsaid. It's a very NZ thing that at once a party may be dancing in your head and very little is spoken but we are moved - we are witness under the layers of insecurity to something we instinctively know is bigger and deserves a loud response but gets an understated acknowledgement - that subtle lifting of a man's head that says everything - respect, hello, I agree, you're welcome. I know it well and I love it about us. It deserves celebration and tonight listening side-of-stage to Little Bushman I thought how apt it is to be touring with such a team as ours. I am so proud of my band! I'm so proud of our crew! There is a quietness between us. That thing of the unsaid.
Tonight in Wanganui at the Opera House (built in 1899, the first theatre in the southern hemisphere to be electrically DC powered) the music came together in just such a celebration.
The great NZ reticence is countered by a belly of joy we all share. To witness the belly-laugh in the provinces is special and messy. I have met people on this tour that would otherwise be the ones you don't meet in the cue at a gas station. That fate would have us not meeting like we do in these generic spaces always puzzles and intrigues me - the great unsaid again.
But to confront the joy and frustration of life and herd a community into a building and catch them at their best is a big ask at the very least and ultimately, if you get it right, an event. This is rock and roll - shake it up and be present in one room together. 'If the walls could talk!' I exclaim to Fred the theatre manager. Don't mention the Scottish play his eyebrows tell me.
There are levels of intimacy that songs evoke and when it comes to the crunch I am happy to glimpse a face that says 'I just broke up with her' or 'I just lost my brother' and know that through thick and thin the songs connect us somehow.
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