Hello everyone!
Last month I was ecstatic to attend an annual DIY music show, organized by my dear show buddy Cass. I wrote an article about it for my Principles of Journalism class; you can read it here.
I'd like to dedicate this post to delving further into my personal experience and thoughts with the show.
My friend and I arrived at Cobbs Hill Park right around 7 PM. At this time, most people began arriving, many of whom were carrying instruments down the trail to the water towers.
As we climbed through the open doorway into the dried-up tower, I noticed everyone gathering in a circle to make room for a campfire. People started setting up their keyboards and drums for the jam session, and others started placing stones and firewood in a pile. Many of us started making noises and vocalizing melodies to hear our voices echo back and forth around the towers.
I've visited the water towers many times before, and I had always wondered what music would sound like from inside them. I can now say firsthand that it is a positively distinctive experience; I eventually plan to visit the towers just to sing. The towers produce a loop of natural echo that I imagine cannot be easily replicated by any other means; even the lightest snap of your fingers dances around the walls from every direction.
As the sky darkened, we cracked some glowsticks and turned on our LED objects. Cass brought an LED hula-hoop; my friend Salem wanted to see how long he could hula for, and he ended his personal challenge after 40 minutes straight. I took some long-exposure shots with my camera to capture the colorful light trails, and the photos came out really well. I'd wished I'd brought my tripod, but I think the blurriness of the photos captured the makeshift aesthetic of the event pretty accurately!
Once the fire was going and the performers started their sets, Cass lit their poi to swing fire. I've never seen that in person. I made sure to sit a safe distance away -- I wouldn't want my wings to catch fire!
Things livened up during Laura's banjo performance. It only took one person stomping their feet for everyone to start jumping and whooping around wildly, rumbling the entire enclosure. I wonder what that sounded like from the outside. That moment felt calmly apocalyptic, even psychedelic; it was one of those moments you only experience at DIY events like these.
No one had to go hungry, either. My buddy Captain Lemo showed up with Wegmans subs for everyone to share, and someone else brought a crate full of fresh produce for people to take home. I nabbed some fresh corn and kale to cook with later on -- my mom was very happy about that!
We had people waving flow toys around and others juggling; overall, everyone there participated in some way, whether that was by joining in with their own sounds or outwardly "feeling" the music with dance. The event felt very innately human to me; music brings people together, and I think everyone there absorbed the night as one. It was overwhelmingly serene, and it felt like there was this weighted blanket of safety over us all as we sat inside of this abandoned structure in the middle of the woods. It was so comfortable; I think everyone's enjoyment contagiously rubbed off on everyone else. We were just having a "grand ol' time," as Salem put it.
DIY music shows are among my favorite sorts of local events to attend. There's this charm, this friendly sense of security I don't feel anywhere else. I hope this post successfully put you in my shoes for a while, but without having to undergo the soreness my feet felt from all the dancing!
Until next time...
this is Devan, your local underground student journalist, logging off.
:-]
