On Wednesday I took it easy, after a stressful travel day on Tuesday that included canceled plans, canceled planes, rebooked flights with connections that required time travel, wonky finances, questionable hotel management, and a small emotional collapse in a parking garage.
But Wednesday night was the Afghan Whigs show, and I was determined to not let the stress of the day prior throw me into migraine hell that would keep me from the show. And this time I won. I made it, and was rewarded with a beautiful spot in the balcony at The Bellwether, which has become one of my favorite venues anywhere.
Why do I go to shows? Lots of reasons, and I’m realizing more of them as my health makes it more difficult to go. Which just makes each show I see that much more precious.
As I mentioned in my recent post about why I go to concerts, I spend a lot of evenings at home on my couch, a little high, in my pajamas with my cat, watching concert videos on YouTube. Most of them shot by fans in the crowd. I knew this would happen someday—at Wednesday night’s show, I had a near-perfect view of the stage, save for the guy to my left who recorded the entire show.
While I wanted to smacked the phone out of his hand, dropping it to the floor a story below every time he blocked my view, you know I’ll be thankful for him someday when the band isn’t touring and I’m two edibles deep back in Belleville, reliving one of the best Afghan Whigs shows I’ve seen.
I can’t necessarily pinpoint what made this show so damn good. The set list was pretty similar to the two shows I’ve seen on this tour, and there weren’t any surprise guests or songs. The band was just really dialed in, as was the crowd. It was one of those nights that just felt like everything in the world might be okay if we can maintain that energy for longer than two hours.
After the show, I grabbed a Lyft back to my hotel, and was greeted by a driver who radiated a vibe similar to the one at the show. He asked who was playing and, of course, wasn’t familiar. I’m pretty sure all of us Afghan Whigs fans know each other at this point, since the band is considered rather niche with a cult following.
Being asked what kind of music a band plays makes me so uncomfortable. Even with years of music writing, it’s hard to capture the unique qualities of any performing artist on the spot with a quick soundbite. And I know I’m prone to going on at length and will go into hyper focus AuDHD mode and tell any band’s life story if I don’t watch myself. So I just tossed out that they’re rock, and touring for their 40th anniversary.
To my surprise, the driver—Efine—pulled up Apple Music on his phone while we were still idling at the curb, and hit play on the band’s page, filling the Camry with the metronome click of their newest single, “Duvateen.” It’s a beautiful song with a great groove, but it’s a little mellow and not necessarily representative of the band’s catalogue. But with ten albums over forty years, can any song encompass the band? Not really, because they’ve evolved so much over those years.
Still, I had him scroll through a few songs, making myself stop obsessing when he hit “66.” It’s a big favorite among most of us and would do just fine.
Either the song clicked with Efine, or he’s a really good actor because next thing I knew we were cruising through late-night downtown LA, windows down, music bumping, and both of us were car-dancing. Grooving along to the funk bass line, two strangers thrown together by the ride-sharing app, having a moment to a song that nails the universal feeling of pursuing an attraction.
C'mon, c'mon C'mon, little rabbit Show me where you've got it 'Cos I know you've got a habit C'mon, c'mon C'mon, little rabbit Show me where you've got it 'Cos I know you've got a habit
By pure serendipity, the song ended, segueing into the bombastic windmilled guitar blast of “Summer’s Kiss” as he pulled up to my stop. I thanked him for the ride and, as I walked away, listened as he turned the song up even louder, a soundtrack to walk away from the car and into the quiet of my hotel.
I tipped him more than I’ve tipped any other driver. Not just for the ride, but for giving me a perfectly cinematic moment to end a perfect show. And for getting how powerful the music we love can be.
I’d be ever so appreciative if you would buy me a coffee to keep me grooving.