Back in 2007, I wrote an essay that won an honorable mention in the Writer’s Digest 76th Annual Writing Competition. I didn’t have this blog at the time, so I thought I’d share it as a reminder of the impact music can have on our lives.
The Healing Power of Rock ‘n’ Roll
“This is surreal for me. I haven’t seen them since 1974,” she said, squinting in the garishly lit restaurant’s powder room mirror to analyze the effect of her newly applied blush. Sparkles literally emanated from her face, as the pre-concert glitter reflected off the gaudy lighting. “If only my friend could be here to see them too….” Her voice trailed off as all pretense disappeared as she spoke of her best friend who recently died.
The two women worked at a club in Lake Geneva, WI, where the band frequently played before they became superstars. As waitresses, the teenage girls were delighted to fetch the guys sandwiches and coffee during their rehearsals. It was apparent going to this concert was very meaningful for her as she proudly displayed a 1974 black and white photo of the band that she hoped they’d autograph.
“I really want to get close enough to the stage for them to read this. Do you think I will?” She pulled out a small sign from her oversized purse which mentioned Lake Geneva and 1974. Over the years, many a fascinating conversation has been sparked in the ladies room before a rock concert, but this was one of the most touching encounters I’d had in a long time.
More than a quarter of a century has passed since this rock band’s music wove its way into my own soul, and even today, their sound still resonates deep within. My annual Southern California concert pilgrimage had me on a plane to San Diego to hook up with another fan nicknamed Sundante. Until we became buddies, my connection to fans never went beyond chatting at concerts (frequently in the powder room). Yet thanks to the Internet, over the past four years we’ve been electronic pen-pals and shared our deepest secrets, hopes and dreams with one another. After all these years, I could finally revel in a friendship with someone who shared my passion for the band and their music.
We wanted to arrive at the venue early, because getting a spot up close to the stage at a general admission show is a major coup for most long time fans. Many have personally met the band over the years and it’s fun to get a shout-out from the lead guitarist because he recognizes you in the audience, or have him throw a guitar pick at your cranium and nail ya’ in the forehead. Way back in the rafters, a fan misses out on lots of the action up front, so many get to the venue “stupid early” to ensure a primo spot in front of their favorite band member. People sometimes ask, “You’ve seen these guys about 50 times, why do you still go to their concerts? What’s the point?”
I go because each concert is an opportunity to discover something incredible about myself and other fans. Even if the band plays the same set list, when looking past the superficial and delving into the true essence of a concert, something is always different and unique. Like snowflakes, no two groups of fans are the same. No two songs are ever played exactly the same way. There’s always some element of surprise, some kind of magic in the air. Sometimes it surprises me how fans are brought together, and I frequently ponder, “Why? What makes us so drawn to this band and their music?”
After years of observation, numerous theories have sprouted out of my brain, but I sense the primary reason we come together is to heal. Heal? Yes, heal. That’s because music is the most potent healing force in the Universe! Music, whether it’s rock, classical or Gregorian monks chanting, can get us in touch with a deeper sense of ourselves. Though unseen, it’s a visceral vibration we feel in our body. Music is an aural medicine; an elixir that tickles our hearts and makes us beam with joy, or awakens long forgotten emotions buried in the recess of our psyche which we need to heal. Music is the supreme Doctor, and we don’t need an insurance company to get access to our magic potion. At the San Diego concert, I’d witness magic, even though Houdini wasn’t anywhere to be found.
Not long after leaving the restaurant, we stood on line outside the venue, but I had no idea how Sundante was going to make it through the concert. Despite some heavy duty meds, she was in excruciating pain. Her back started to act up over a week earlier, and standing or sitting made her want to scream in agony. It’s difficult to watch another person suffer; to feel helpless and not be able to do anything to ease their pain. But there was nothing I could do except make sure she got a spot at the railing next to the stage to lean on.
“I’ll be okay” said Sundante. “As soon as the band starts playing, the pain will disappear.” This statement doesn’t surprise me, for once upon a time, Beatles producer George Martin said, “They’re a healing force in music.” He wasn’t talking about the Fab Four; he was referring to our band. Sundante knew the healing musical vibrations would help soften the torturous spasms that consumed her body.
We snagged a spot next to the stage and the Lake Geneva woman wound up next to me. She was so incredibly excited to be right up front, and not long after the band took the stage, shyly raised her arms a bit so that the lead guitarist could read her sign. He spotted it and read part of the message out loud to the audience. With that, the singer and bassist came over and checked out the sign, enthusiastically pointing at her and commenting on Lake Geneva.
Though adjacent to the woman, I couldn’t look at the singer and bass player while they connected with her. Despite being in a room full of hundreds of people, it felt like an invasion of her privacy. This was her moment with the band, her moment to connect with her past and get acknowledgment for having known them in the beginning of their careers. Her moment to honor the loss of a dear friend, and find a place of solace in her wounded heart by saying hi to some familiar rock stars and bathe in that healing force of the band’s music.
At one point, the lead guitarist launched into his typical shtick about how the lead singer is his favorite singer in the whole wide world. But tonight, he added a twist. He said that the lead singer never forgets the lyrics, and never forgets the meaning behind the words in a song. He’s right. The vibration of a word carries an inherent message. When those lyrics are coupled with a singer who croons with intent behind those words, the impact on a fan can be phenomenal, as is the case with Sundante.
As soon as the distinctive vibration of the opening notes to the song “The Flame” graced my ears, I knew what was coming: tears. Not mine, but Sundante’s. The singer belts out the lyrics with such intention, such powerful emotion, Sundante can’t help but turn into Pavlov’s dog. Instead of salivating when she hears a bell, she weeps whenever “The Flame” touches her eardrums. You’d think the tears might be caused by the extreme physical pain in her body, but no, these are tears of emotional turmoil.
Sundante has told me numerous times how embarrassing it is to have this happen at a concert. The lyrics just rip open her heart, for they remind her of the love she feels for someone so emotionally close, yet often he’s physically far away. Without even a tissue to offer, all I could give Sundante was her space during this song, and watch her eyes well up, because that’s the purpose of rock music. It helps bring healing by prompting us to feel emotions we bury deep inside during our ordinary lives. For a little over an hour at a concert, we are transported into another world by the band’s music. It’s a world where we can feel joy, sorrow, yearning, passion, or whatever else arises from the depths of our being, and not judge ourselves as inappropriate or strange. The music encourages us be who we are, and who we are is an amazing group of fans.
Amazing doesn’t have to be stupendous, huge, and hung with a neon sign. Sometimes, amazing is gentle and understated. As I leaned back a bit from the railing during “The Flame,” the Lake Geneva woman saw Sundante crying and instinctively leaned over me and gave her a hug. Virtually perfect strangers, and having no idea why Sundante was weeping, she reached out to console another fan. Perhaps the lyrics to the song touched her heart as well, and brought to mind the best friend she recently lost. After the song ended, the lead singer walked towards Sundante, leaned over and handed her a tissue from the stage. It was a touching moment, for his action epitomized the shared sense of connection fans felt during the song.
A rock concert is a collective union of souls drawn together to reconnect with ourselves, our past, our joy, and sometimes heal our pain. Sundante’s pain was so intense she could barely walk, so after the concert I retrieved the car, and headed back inside the venue to tell another friend where we were parked. The Lake Geneva woman was outside the venue talking with some fans she’d just met, and greeted me with a huge smile that stretched all the way to Toledo.
“Look, look, look!!! They signed my picture! I can’t believe it. They were hanging out in their limo in back of the theater, and were so incredibly nice to me. I’m soooo happy!”
She proudly displayed her newly autographed photo of the band. On the surface, it may look like pain can transform into joy with a pen and a rock star, but it was the emotional connection she felt with them that made her jubilant.
It’s moments like these that make being a fan amazing, because though the band probably had no idea that she’d recently lost a dear friend, by signing her photograph, it seemed to bring a sense of closure to this woman’s life. She set out with a mission: to have the band notice her sign and get the photo autographed, and now her mission was accomplished. She appeared complete and content to go back to her ordinary life, but the concert was magical, and a night I’m sure she’ll never forget.
Magic always seems to happen around the concerts. Not every fan walks away with something special signed by the band, but when we focus our attention on the little things, the special moments of interaction between fans and the band, the beauty is there if we’re willing to look for it.
The next night the band performed at a club north of Los Angeles, and more subtle, magical moments arose. Like the moment when a fan who didn’t know me very well placed a very cool dog tag necklace with the band’s logo in my hand. It was a wonderful gesture of inclusion.
Or the relief I felt the moment a woman offered me a pair of earplugs without my asking. I thought I’d have to resort to using a tiny wad of toilet tissue from the ladies room which I’d rolled into a ball to attempt to keep my inner ear from exploding. Now I’d live to hear another day.
Or when another fan shared that after years of drinking, he’d been sober for several months. I responded with words of encouragement to continue on the difficult path of allowing his body and mind to heal. By opening up and showing one another who we are, that none of us are perfect and we all have our addictions, he showed me the importance of being part of a community of people that feel comfortable enough to expose their weaknesses without the fear of being judged.
As I watched other fans smile and sing, their hearts filled with love and devotion, a deep sense of appreciation infused my heart. Where else can a group of people exude this kind of passion? It’s hard to conjure a place or event that brings together beings from all walks of life and allows their souls to become unified in emotional bliss. Who would think that a rock concert could be a magical place of healing? But for many fans it is.
My life has been so profoundly impacted by the sounds of this rock band, that I can’t fathom how other people go through their lives without a favorite musical artist or group to help them navigate the challenges of our insane world. So when people look at me as if I’m the crazy one for being a long-time fan, I just shake my head because they don’t know what they’re missing. They have no idea the breadth of insights I’ve gleaned from this rock group all these years, and why I’m honored to call myself a fan of the band known as Cheap Trick.