"It seemed to me that all through this music there was the radiance of this cool starry brightness and the quivering of this clearness of ether. Yes, it was there. In this music there was a feeling as of time frozen into space, and above it there quivered a never-ending and superhuman serenity, an eternal, divine laughter." -- Hermann Hesse, Steppenwolf
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Lately I've been having really bizarre, disturbing dreams. They are hard to remember or describe, but I usually wake abruptly with a distinct feeling of fear or panic. I don't often recall places or dialogue, though I'll be certain that I was chased like a fugitive or that, as happened in one recent dream, I was shot with a gun. I've never been shot in real life, yet in the dream I could have sworn that it actually happened. Needless to say, not all dreams are pleasant. Some dreams are absolutely horrifying, and the scariest ones tend to be so abstract that they have no direct counterpart in the real world. All dreams share the common characteristic of being essentially out of our control, a product of our subconscious brain activity that we're forced to participate in, and usually tricked into believing. Only on the rare occasion do we become aware that we are dreaming, or gain the power to wake ourselves up. The only time this happens for me is when I'm pushed to the edge; the gunshot dream was one of these. I practically shook myself out of bed in order to reenter waking life.
I got to thinking about all this dream nonsense while attending the My Bloody Valentine concert at the Aragon Ballroom in Chicago, Illinois on Saturday, September 27, 2008. The show was part of a short American tour that marked an end to the band's 15-year stretch of inactivity. Their 1991 album Loveless is considered to be the pinnacle of the band's career, and many have speculated whether band leader Kevin Shields put off further recording for fear of not being able to live up to their gargantuan reputation. Since its original release, the album has also achieved a sort of mythical status, and is often ranked among the best of that decade. As a result of the inactivity, many bands carried on their spirit, branching off in various directions that Shields ostensibly could have taken. This has been especially true during the indie music onslaught of the last five to eight years.
With only a few full-length albums and a handful of EPs, the group invented -- or at least epitomized -- the style known as "shoegaze," a specific combination of dream pop and noise rock. MBV (forgive the abbreviation) is, in a word, a dreamy band. But at the concert, the word "dreamy" could be applied in a more realistic sense than I had hoped for. Let me back up and explain. In 2006 I wrote an essay about the album Loveless, in which I professed my love for the work of art and stated how I thought it fit into today's musical world. At the close, I wrote that the album walks "the fuzzy line between reality and dreams. Although the album has a somber name, Loveless is a testament to what is beautiful in life. Or even what could be beautiful and perfect, even if you don't have it now. It's a simultaneous display of hope and despair. And really, what is truer than that?"
That concept of exuding both hope and despair in a single moment seemed to be a key characteristic of the album, and the primary reason for its longevity. Yes, Shields had reinvented the way guitars can sound when layered and applied with effects. Yes, the music of My Bloody Valentine has had a tremendous influence on bands today. But it's the emotional core of the album that fortifies it and continues to draw in fans. Essentially, I arrived at the Aragon Ballroom hoping to be stirred into a minor emotional breakdown. I had been carrying a lot of weight, and for one reason or another I hadn't let myself purge the poison and have a good cry. I thought that MBV would assist in that. I hadn't been to the Aragon before, so when I saw the astonishing interior design -- like a Mediterranean courtyard under a starry sky -- I was confident that the setting was perfect. I was even seated on the second level with a nearly unobstructed view, since my companion had recently torn the ligaments in her ankle. I could just sit there, absorb all the splendor, and let it pour back out of me.
Not only was the concert not what I was expecting from MBV the band; it also wasn't what I expected from the purveyors of shoegaze music. Instead of gazing at their shoes, Shields and vocalist/guitarist Bilinda Butcher stood at their microphone stands, staring straight into the audience almost the entire show. It's true that they didn't speak more than a few words to the crowd, but they definitely weren't hiding. I had seen singers in other bands -- some under the shoegaze umbrella, like James Graham of the Twilight Sad; and some, like Maynard James Keenan of Tool, who were way outside of it -- sing facing stage rear, with little to no light illuminating their bodies.
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