Gang of Youths
METRO - Chicago - 12.14.18
Photos by: Tif Impson
I did something Friday night that I've never done.
Actually, I think I did a few things I've never done, but there was one specific faux pas that I not only performed flawlessly, I openly embraced how incredibly corny I might have appeared.
Yes, last night, I blatantly wore the shirt of the band I went and saw at that band's show, and I fucking loved it. I rolled around and reveled in my handflapping fanboy fandom as if it was a pile of freshly laundered sheets. I went puppy getting comfortable on this motherfucker.
The last time Gang of Youths came through Chicago in March of this year, they managed to super pack Subterranean something fierce. Nuts to butts as hell, I swears, 400 something people clamoring to touch that dude's hair. Yet the time before, in June of 2017, GoY only drew two dozen folks or so out to the narrow and lovable Schubas.
Friday night Gang of Youths had over 1,000 in attendance at The Metro, which for various not-always-related-to-music-but-pure-nostalgia reasons, is quite possibly my favorite venue in Chicago. I've seen some of the most important shows of my life at The Metro, and I still refuse to not capitalize the The in front of The Metro, because I hold The Metro in such a personally historic high regard that I feel I should genuflect at its altar of providing me with musical memories I still mentally musically masturbate to.
Oh hey, just because you're reading this and that means we're totes friends, I should mention that I've been dealing with a golf ball sized surgery wound in the bottom of my right foot since early November and it has caused me to miss a few shows that I felt I desperately needed to experience. I had to forfeit tickets to see Khruangbin at The Vic and Manchester Orchestra at Aragon because I'm not only in fucking pain, the newfound inability to get around or even just get the fuck out of people's way has made me socially terrified of being in public. Having to simply go to the bathroom creates so much anxiety that I actually considered a catheter for the next few months before I realized that diapers might actually be a bit more kinky.
Anywho, my temporary gimpness slash disability put me in an incredibly weird spot, as I kept telling myself I wasn't going to miss this show, but holy shit would it have been super easy to just miss the show and blame my #joelhole. (If any of you are interested in seeing the daily pictures of my Joel Hole's healing process, I created a facebook group and there are currently 56 members, so please, come see my hole.)
I reached out to The Metro through my friend Jonny at Hope For The Day and he helped explain my holy foot situation and that I wasn't there to be a nuisance, I just needed to see Gang of Youths because I have a mancrush on every member of the band and I needed to feed my fantasies. Amazingly, it all worked out and I got to see one of the best shows of my life from a front row balcony seat I never would have imagined would be available to my lumpy, and temporary gimp ass.
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Gang of Youths - METRO - Chicago - 12.14.18
Gang of Youths - METRO - Chicago - 12.14.18
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Gang of Youths - METRO - Chicago - 12.14.18
Gang of Youths - METRO - Chicago - 12.14.18
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Gang of Youths - METRO - Chicago - 12.14.18
Gang of Youths - METRO - Chicago - 12.14.18
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Gang of Youths - METRO - Chicago - 12.14.18
Gang of Youths - METRO - Chicago - 12.14.18
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Gang of Youths - METRO - Chicago - 12.14.18
Gang of Youths - METRO - Chicago - 12.14.18
Opening with "Fear & Trembling", as their latest studio album Go Farther In Lightness does, was perfect. In addition to being the first GoY song I had ever heard, the fact that it welcomes the listener to have a seat at the bar next to them (where there's a moose head hanging nearby) was just fucking perfect, but the immediate acceleration in energy just before the two minute mark brought the fucking house down.
"Then light it up
SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK
the shadows in my blood!"
I FUCKING LOST IT. First song, first five minutes, I'm pissing from my eye holes and through tears all I can see is the entire floor hands in the air, lights flashing, Slayer Pepe hair flying everywhere, all of a sudden we weren't where we were but where we wanted to be. Rapture feels like an appropriate term to describe those few minutes, no bullshit. The happiness of having such a wall of sound shoved into my fucking face was so profound I'm sitting here more than 24 hours after and I'm still fucking weeping.
By the time they ended their first song and started that anthemic SWAT SWAT SWAT of "What Can I Do If the Fire Goes Out?", where the meter goes from "shit is about to go down" to "holy shit shit is fucking going down", and then it's "This is the sound of a soul in tune", I am a fucking puddle.
Honestly, the intensity and beauty of that second song had me weepy wobbling in my chair and I turned to my friend Jason and screamed through tear filled eyes "Second song in and it just felt like the fucking encore".
No bullshit, Gang of Youths made the second song of the night feel like the most important performance of their lives. You might want to blame it on the pain killers, but I was so incredibly happy and proud to be feeling what they were creating that at one point I found myself hugging myself with IPA scented tears dripping down my fat sweaty face and a smile like I was watching my kids score the winning goal, my heart was so fucking full.
By the time Dave started his spoken introduction to "The Heart Is a Muscle" there wasn't a dry face in the place, and I'm certain everyone in the audience would join me in saying that the show could've ended there and no one would have felt the need to complain.
During this brief reprieve Dave went on to explain the meaning behind the song, but also filled us in on why their Lolla aftershow in August (which Jason and I had tickets for) was canceled. I will admit to not putting too much thought into it because shows get canceled all the time, but learning that his father's passing was the reason behind it struck a nerve. Dave's words about his hurt weren't just relate-able, they were passioned and pained and agonizing and powerful because all of us have dealt with some sort of loss, but not many of us have to grieve so publicly.
Dave's ability to so honestly hurt in front of us made Gang of Youths all the more important to me because I sometimes paint myself into a version of me that's supposed to act like I'm above any, or free from pain. That sort of attitude is both limiting and unrealistic and it can end up tightening my cap so tight that my only alternative is to explode rather than ease that shit out.
While I won't lie and say I can understand every word that comes out of Dave's mouth, not just because of the accent or how incredibly bassy his speaking voice is, but because I am deaf as hell from standing in front of amps for a few decades sans any ear protection, I will say what I heard from the dude was what I needed to hear. Reminding us to be better to each other and better to ourselves can seem like a corny aside to utter in front of a packed house, but when the world is run by assholes you wouldn't take home to dinner with your parents, we all could use a pep talk.
Gang of Youths, on the outside, are an incredible gang of musicians, filled with an energy I haven't been drawn to since I first got deep into Pearl Jam back in junior high, but on the topic of substance, I don't think I've ever been more enamored with a band. Lyrically speaking, they aren't just wailing your typical rock song fodder, they're pairing their individual displays of musicianship with artfully exploring how the physical human experience is weighted differently for everyone because of the emotional human experience that is impossible to compare from human to human.
When the set veered into "Keep Me In the Open" I got giddy, because I knew where the drums would lead. After obsessing over the live videos from their Schubas show last year, I was struck by drummer Donnie and his elevated "perch upon the throne", as his playing style is so fluid and powerful and inspiring and fucking BEASTLY. On "Keep Me In the Open" he's thwapping out beats that would otherwise steal the show, if played just a touch harder it would distract from the lyrics, but the manner in which he's thwapping is so fucking tasteful I can do nothing but gawk at him. Donnie is my fucking favorite, and his performance on Friday was better than I could have imagined, or gathered from enjoying a few dozen YouTube wormholes of various Gang of Youths shows over the last year or so.
I will admit that my favorite GoY song is "Do Not Let Your Spirit Wane". I will admit to tattooing a portion of the lyrics backwards on my chest, so that every morning I'm reminded of my own power while looking at myself in the mirror. But I cannot begin to describe the emotional experience that took place while it was performed in front of me for now the second time. I could write novels about why the song resonated so hard with me when I first heard it last year, or why it actually lead me to reach out for counseling in January of this year, or how amazing it is that my kids know when to shut up because dad is about to go hard as a motherfucker on some air drums on that last chorus, but if you gift me anything in this life, I honestly just want you to visit this song at some point on your own with no distractions.
How a guy can write a song so deeply painful and morose and have it be so emphatically and powerfully beautiful is a testament to the talent that is David Le'aupepe, and a gift I will never be able to say enough thank you for.
Donnie's drums on that aforementioned third chorus will carry me into 2019 fucking triumphantly, I don't know what other word can adequately summarize the thrust and bang of that performance.
There has been nothing in my life so far important to me as hearing 1,000 strangers all screaming in unison:
"Do not let this thing you got go to waste
Do not let your heart be dismayed
It’s here by some random disclosure of grace
From some vascular, great thing
Get the fuck out of your head if it says
“Stay cold and be deathly afraid”
Do not let your spirit wane
Do not let your spirit wane"
Forever inspired as fuck.
*wipes face*
With as much emotional energy that was expelled during that first half dozen songs performed, some might've assumed that the show was all serious and tear inducing, but those of us who have ever danced sexily to "Let Me Down Easy" on our own in our underwear know that it's impossible not to revel in the sexy fun of seeing it performed live. This particular song's performance was halted soon after it started because Chicago wasn't as sassy as it should have been, but thankfully those who could physically stand were reminded that they were contractually obligated to shimmy their genitals while Dave escorted us through the song suck-sex-fully.
YEAAAAA, INVENTING NEW WORDS BECAUSE A DUDE WITH LONG HAIR MADE YOU THRUST YOUR BANGBANG IN PUBLIC WOOOOOOO!
This show ran the gamut of emotions, and I'm forever impressed with these young bastards and their ability to melt faces. But when a band comes out for a bow at the end, and the house lights are on and everyone in the crowd is smiling and tearfully clapping and wooing like they just saw their kid graduate high school, you have to count your fucking blessings because you just etched this Gang of Youths show onto the cover of the Trapper Keeper of life and it'll be something you'll remember more than fondly until the next time these hairy bastards come back to Chicago.
If I wasn't a huge Gang of Youths fan before this show (BUT I WAS BRO), I left the show so hugely in love with everything about this band that I'm forcing myself not to start every conversation with "you up on the GoY, bruv?".
I'm ok being an annoying Gang of Youths fanboy, because that was galdarn incredible and I'm just fucking thankful I was physically able to experience it.
Thank you to Stacey and Shannon at The Metro for the ADA accommodations and seat for me, and thank you to Tif and Jason for carting my gimp ass from Half Acre for pre-show beers and nachos up to the third floor of the venue, and for waiting while they evacuated the women's bathroom so I could wee wee. The entire night was my favorite, and the pickled red onions at Half Acre might end up being the protagonist in my next batch of fan fiction.
100/10, would bone again.