Don’t be ashamed or disgusted with yourselves

There was a festival Way Out West. It even had that name. I arrived by train. Late as always. My sister waiting at the wrong place. She’s only lived there for eight years or so. Stress was around me. The wheels of my black cabin bag that my mother gave me bombarded the cobble stones outside the station. Damp sweat in the humid evening. A quick hug, throw in my bag in the car. I told my sister to drive me to where The Radio Dept. and Warpaint were playing. It’s full she answered. Sweat on my forehead. I closed my fist. I downloaded the festival app on my sister’s phone. There I would be able to see the status of the queues to the various clubs that were part of the festival had.

“I threw up in an English garden”. The words from Destroyer’s ramblings in Bay of Pigs (Detail) came to me. I told my sister to drive to where Okkervil River and Destroyer played. I felt like a captain at sea; pointing towards new land. The app refused to install. We passed by the club where Warpaint would play. The queue was creeping around the entire city. More Converse All Stars that anyone had ever seen in one place.

We arrived at the white theatre where Okkervil River would start playing in five minutes. I ran out, screamed to my sister to stay in the car. She shook her head, looking at her distressed brother as I ran after indie pop concerts in her home town. Around the corner I realized that also here I would never be able to get in. There would be no Destroyer for me that night. Instead I saw my London favorite Chad Valley. He was only somewhat short of magical.

Today, in a post-holiday funk while setting up meetings, writing articles, booking flights to the city where I missed both Destroyer and Warpaint, I am overwhelmed by Destroyer’s 2011 album Kaputt. It took some time, but once you let the lush arrangements, the Sunday trumpets, the soft voices, and the long ramblings about Chinatowns and stories about people on the fringe of things, you don’t want to step out. Among people so far away from this office reality, I pretend, if only for a bit, that there is some connection between that world and I. That my recent holiday was a part of me and not something detached. Oh well.

Don’t be ashamed or disgusted with yourselves
Don’t be ashamed or disgusted with yourselves
Don’t be ashamed or disgusted with yourselves


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