Apologies for the late dispatch; as you’ll read below, my life is a (concert) movie. Back to the regular format next week.
I was walking into a forest in Olympic National Park with plans to be out there for multiple days when my phone started buzzing intermittently. I tried to ignore it and enjoy the scenery, but someone was definitely trying to contact me. The area was so remote I was surprised I had a signal at all. I pulled out my phone, still walking, and read multiple text messages along the lines of:
I tried to reply but I had lost service. Deep in the rainforest in Washington, I was thinking about my favorite concrete concert venue in Berkeley.
Last night, I saw Phoebe Bridgers live at the Greek. She sheepishly said midway through the show that we were the biggest venue the band had ever played. She liked the effect of the thousands of phone flashlights shining in the bowl so much she made the audience do it for a photo. She had played there once before, opening for the War on Drugs in 2017. Four years later, her headlining show sold out in less than a minute.
I did abuse my power as an employee of the theatre to secure a spot at the very front of the pit, pressed up against the barricade. The sound isn’t great that close to the stage, as the bulk of the amplified sound is directed further out, but if I’m not in the first row I get distracted by looking for openings to slip further up. I can’t help it; I love to love things fanatically, with as much intensity as I can muster.
Julien Baker was the surprise opener for the show, and her solo acoustic set was delightful. She was obviously nervous, which was endearing, but she didn’t need to be; she performed beautifully for a rapt audience obsessed with boygenius (2018) if not intimately familiar with her solo work. She invited Phoebe out to play a cover of “One Man Guy” by Rufus Wainwright. It’s clear that they love each other very much.
Phoebe got down on her knees at the edge of the stage for the chorus of “Punisher”:
What if I told you I feel like I know you
But we never met?
Everyone screamed. It was strange—a song written about her overzealous fandom of Elliott Smith turned back on her own fans, many of whom are aptly described as overzealous themselves. I’m not sure what to make of it still. I sometimes do feel like I know the people whose music I’m entrenched in, and like they know me as well. We’re speaking the same language. It’s misguided, but I hope that anyone who listens to my music feels like they know me too.
The visuals for the album and show, created by the brilliant Chris Riddell (coincidentally the author and illustrator of some of my favorite books as a child), were stunning: scenes shown as if in pop up books. During “I Know the End” the book started burning, flames creeping up the sides and eating all the paper. Something about Punisher is like a storybook, the intense imagery and world-building Phoebe does with her lyrics.
She wore the same thing she’s been wearing every night on this tour: a beaded-high fashion variation of her iconic skeleton suit. Her band sported the traditional black and white onesies, with a few cowboy hats thrown in for variation. Most of the crowd was dressed in sparkly black, shiny black, ripped up black, sheer black, etc. We all understood the assignment.
I don’t know how to feel now that I’ve seen Phoebe Bridgers. She’s the person whose tour I’ve most wanted to attend for years. Being in that front row, something came full circle for me, although I’m not sure what. She’s a real person that I might pass on the street, she’s a rockstar whose writing has broken my heart.
No, I'm not afraid to disappear
The billboard said, "The end is near"
I turned around, there was nothing there
Yeah, I guess the end is here