Who’s That Dude Crying at the Concert?

Is that dude in Section 13, Row 1 crying?

Yeah, that was pretty much me the entire show. First time at Barclays—nice arena, awful acoustics. I really didn’t have much of a clue as to how I was going to be affected by the concert.

For those of you who may be joining this blog recently, a good friend of mine, Kaitlyn McInnis, introduced me to this folky-sounding little band called Mumford & Sons in 2010. I rarely listen to lyrics, at least for the first 40-50 listens. I do… I just don’t really pay much attention to them and just let the sound drive the emotion.

Around December of 2010, David and I were planning our Christmas trip. Each year I would make a playlist for the car. There was a song “Feel The Tide” that was just clicking with our situation. Our mom had died… and really this song just opened me up and to me represented me and David. Each of the verses played into what I felt for David:

She sits him down in a stiff chair
Rubs his back and strokes his hair
Telling him it’s okay to cry
But he just sits and stare

The merciless moon outside
Has nothing now he’s come to realize
Only the desolation he feels
The cold distance inside

But you and I now
We can be alright
Just hold on to what we know is true
You and I now
Though it’s cold inside
Feel the tide turning

While the priest just sits and weeps
Lamenting the fact that he can see
Darkness and light in so much detail
He has given himself over
Refusing what he knows to be real
He turns away from every meal
Starving himself of goodness
He doesn’t think he can heal

“What if I’ve lost all I had?”
Says the stranger to his dad
And the witness is confused
He can’t tell what is bad
Instead he runs up to the nearest girl
And he comments on her glorious curls
Says, “Darling come with me I’ll show you a whole new world”

But you and I now
We can be alright Just hold on to what we know is true
You and I now
Though it’s cold inside Feel the tide turning
You and I now
We can be alright Just hold on to what we know is true
You and I now
Though it’s cold inside Feel the tide turning

So this song fits, and I really just hummed along to the other songs not really paying attention to the words… then all of a sudden, David is starting to teeter, and I can feel something bad happening. At that moment, it was if the album had just translated itself into clear English. The lyrics were high definition.

I grabbed my shuffle, cleared out all the songs, and just started loading up this shuffle with songs… songs to inspire, like “This Year” by The Mountain Goats, but a lot of Mumford. Specifically “Little Lion Man” stood out with “Feel the Tide.” He thought I was giving him country music to listen to. David wasn’t extremely versed in genres beyond old hip-hop and pop… my guess is he had about the same connection to the lyrics as I did where it didn’t really resonate until it needed to. I wonder to this day if he really did listen and understand what I was trying to say to him through the music.

Weep for yourself, my man,
You’ll never be what is in your heart
Weep Little Lion Man,
You’re not as brave as you were at the start
Rate yourself and rake yourself,
Take all the courage you have left
Wasted on fixing all the problems
That you made in your own head

Tremble for yourself, my man,
You know that you have seen this all before
Tremble Little Lion Man,
You’ll never settle any of your scores
Your grace is wasted in your face,
Your boldness stands alone among the wreck
Now learn from your mother or else spend your days Biting your own neck

I wish “Timshel” had revealed itself to me before David killed himself. I think it was October 16th, and I had my headphones in, shell-shocked at what happened, and this song just shattered me too pieces.

Could this have been the song that saved him?

A couple days after we buried David, Jason handed me “The Cave,” saying, “This one is for you…”

So again, the words come in through the headphones, and even now this song plays and my throat wells. I’ve been confused about this one because part of this song makes me feel like I failed David. I couldn’t stop David from “choking on the noose around his neck”… so maybe it’s Jason looking over me this time, maybe it’s a little bit of both.

“Feel the Tide,” “Little Lion Man,” “Timshel,” “The Cave,” “Awake My Soul”… this band showed up and fucking tore my situation to pieces.

So here I am at Barclays, open view of the stage, and from the first strum and harmony, my eyes are just blasting a steady stream of tears down my face. No matter what I did, I could not control what was happening inside of me. It was as if I was reliving each and every moment. The hope, the despair, the courage to rise again.

By the time the house lights came back on, I was exhausted. They didn’t play “Feel the Tide,” and I am kind of glad they didn’t cause I am not sure I could have handled it.

I had the opportunity to go to the show again tomorrow but turned it down. The power of music is so amazing to me. It can make you happy, sad, angry, hopeful… it is one of the best things we have as humans to try to express feelings, and when the words and the sound merge and do what that album did to me during my most challenging times, it gets me through the day.

So yeah, I was the dude crying in section 113, and yes, I was moved by the music—I let it envelope my entire being and fill me with all the sadness, the rage, the despair, but—most importantly—the courage to get back up and try again…

I used to poke fun at people who were too “INTO” the music at concerts—I will never do that again. Because that night I was that guy, and I am sure more than one person looked at me and had no idea what I was trying to grip and get a handle on. They passed judgement on my tears, and after a while, I just couldn’t wipe them away anymore and let ’em flow.

Thank you to the musicians and the artists that tell our stories for us.