March 14 I had the privilege of watching The Lonely Forest play in Spokane. At the very school I happen to go to. For free. With friends all around.
This wasn’t always the case in my life. I spent most of high school on another continent where the music scene did not include that depraved Western genre of rock and roll. No, if we wanted a show, we had to do it ourselves. So we got together and learned how to play an instrument or two, and then joined a band or three and played the annual battle of the bands.
We wrote terrible songs, practiced them, played them, moshed to them, and mostly just sweat a whole lot. We made the most of what we had.
So when I came to the United States and found a country that takes its entertainment for granted, I was appalled. When I went to the shows, no one was dancing. No one was singing along at the top of their lungs. No one was jumping on stage to commandeer the mic and make it a grand sing-a-long. Where were the people I saw in the grainy old videos of the obscure rock bands that I watched over and over again?
Somehow, an unwritten code of conduct has developed. It seems that people think a rock band is best appreciated with a bored look on the face and hands shoved squarely in the pockets. Oh sure, maybe one will deign to tap their foot, but God forbid they actually dance! The only bands they dance to are the ones that are bona fide dance bands. And then the mood has to be right, you know?
No. Life is too short, too precious and too depressing to just sit back and watch. (Granted, sometimes it is not quite appropriate to let loose.) Saturday night concerts are not primarily meant for me to show off the wardrobe I dug up at obscure thrift shops I found over fall break in Portland. They’re a celebration of life. They’re a chance to let go of all the stress and all the frustration of the week, kick back and let everything go. We are among friends, we are with loved ones. Why not let go?
I talked with John Van Deusen, who writes and sings the songs, after The Lonely Forest’s set and he’s noticed the same thing.
He thinks people just need someone to lead the way, an example to follow. I concur. So I plead with you to be an example and blaze a trail that we once knew but have lost in the familiarity of it all. We must re-learn how be unafraid of our own stupidity and atrocious dance moves. The art that is before us is a gift, and we need to appreciate it, to immerse ourselves in it, to participate in it.
Just let go.
Navis is a guest columnist and a senior majoring in peace studies. Comments can be sent to knavis09@whitworth.edu.
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