Most diehard music fans enjoy having some sort of “claim to fame” that sets them apart from the musical Philistines of this world. Maybe you saw The Decemberists in a small dive bar in Portland two months before they released their first EP. Perhaps you own one of 12 bootlegged copies of a Radiohead concert where Thom Yorke professes his undying love for Clear Channel. Or maybe, just maybe, you made out with Kid Rock at a biker rally 10 years ago, thus inspiring him to write his hit single “Bawitaba.” All true music fans should have at least one of these stories, and now I can say that I do.
You see, last Friday at an intimate Austin City Limits TV show taping, I hugged and sang with Win Butler, lead singer of indie group Arcade Fire.
But first a little back-story: Two weeks ago, I heard a rumor that Arcade Fire was going to do a special taping of Austin City Limits and that a limited amount of tickets were going to be given out at a secret location to be announced on KUT (90.5) two days before the concert. Being an Arcade Fire fanatic (and currently unemployed) I made it my goal to listen to the radio all day if need be to secure these precious tickets. So after many hours huddled over my roommate’s ancient Sony clock radio, the soft spoken DJ finally announced the location of the ticket giveaway: 26th and Dean Keeton at UT’s Communications School complex.
Like the Hamburglar in pursuit of a free Big Mac, I galloped to my car as fast as I could, praying that all cars on Lamar would let me pass as if I were a screaming ambulance. Thankfully, the traffic gods were on my side, and I made the trip from 44th and Lamar to 26th and Dean Keeton in a record-breaking time of four minutes and 38 seconds. Parking illegally next to the school, I awkwardly leaped out of my SUV and began to sprint the last leg of the race with reckless abandon. Unfortunately, in my mad dash to get the tickets I had forgotten to put on proper running shoes and was still wearing an old pair of Birkenstock sandals. The combination of unstable footwear and my lack of athletic refinement caused me to tumble face first onto the granite steps that lead to the courtyard at the Communications School. As I bit the dust and both my sandals flew off my feet like shrapnel in a war zone, I looked up to see dozens of other music fans with proper shoes flying past me without any regard for my well-being.
I can’t say I blame them. When it comes to free Arcade Fire tickets, it’s a dog-eat-dog world out there. Fortunately, one philanthropic soul decided to show me some much-needed kindness by grabbing my sandals and hurling them in my general direction as she scurried past me. Bleeding heavily from both my big toes, I sucked the pain into a small corner of my mind, threw my sandals on my feet, and sprinted up the steps.
I had embarrassed myself in front of several strangers, created deep gashes in both my big toes, and most likely broke several traffic laws, but I had achieved my ultimate goal: I was going to be one of the lucky 325 people to see Arcade Fire at this taping.
On the day of the show, my roommate James and I were giddy with excitement. We arrived at the taping three hours early to ensure our spot in the crowd, and when we finally entered the legendary Austin City Limits studio, we knew we were in for a treat.
The lights dimmed and all 10 members of Arcade Fire took the stage with the faux Austin skyline serving as a backdrop. Chills shot down my spine in anticipation of a glorious, musical, love celebration soon to take place. Opening with a surprisingly upbeat version of “Black Mirror” from this year’s excellent Neon Bible, Win Butler and company owned every second they were on stage. However, the true highlight of the show came with the last two songs of the night.
As the band seamlessly transitioned from “Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)” into “Rebellion (Lies)” from their breakout debut album Funeral, Butler, a stoic yet commanding frontman, hopped off the small stage and made his way toward the crowd. Seeing an opening to get close to one of my musical heroes, I made a beeline towards him, this time making sure not to trip over my sandals.
Thinking he would soon be back on stage, I made the most of my opportunity and threw my arms around Butler in what can only be described as a bizarre combination of a hug, pelvic thrust, and dive tackle. Thankfully, Butler wasn’t fazed by my slightly creepy advances and hugged me back, all while still trying to play his guitar.
A member of the camera crew grabbed Butler’s microphone off the stage and placed it next to us. Butler quickly broke free from our sweaty embrace and began to sing as I kept my left arm around his shoulder.
Soon, several other people joined us as Butler led us in the most amazing sing along of our lives.
Come on hide your lovers underneath the covers
Come on hide your lovers underneath the covers
Hidin’ from your brothers underneath the covers
Come on hide your lovers underneath the covers
As I screamed myself hoarse during those next four minutes I couldn’t help but think about why I was so obsessed with music in general. What was it about this ancient art form that speaks to me in ways that people can’t? What was it that made me willingly bleed for a two-hour concert? Why would I immediately call my best friends after the show and regale them with the tale of the night’s events?
And then I realized it’s because music is one of the few things in this world that can still retain absolute purity. It’s a shared experience, that when executed with genuine passion and truth can transcend the senses and fill your heart with joy.
That’s why true fans of music are always looking for this “claim to fame.” We’re all constantly chasing that one moment where we can escape the mundane and experience life at a different level. Music is simply the vessel.
As the show ended and I slowly made my way out into the lobby, James asked me how I felt. Jokingly I responded, “I don’t know how I can live after that.”
Thinking back upon that moment, I feel like I should have said something different. I should have said, “I can’t wait to live after that.”
Comments
Nice.
I gave up on trying to get tickets to acl tapings after I was denied them 3 times in a row; I got to each location within literally 5 minutes and the tickets were gone; I wanted to punch everyone and then throw up on them and laugh until the sun went down
The employees probably steal most of the tix.
Actually, I can tell you with authority that the station employees do NOT end up with most of the ACL tickets. Quite the opposite, in fact. The members of the public have a better chance of seeing tapings than the employees do.
You’re wrong…. they all steal all the tickets. I know this for a fact because I work for them.
I am the above commenter’s boss. He or she is wrong, I am the one that steals the tickets.
I’m an actual Austin City Limits Ticket, and I love being stolen by the thieving members of the Austin City Limits Staff. I also hate Wilco.
I am Jeff Tweedy of Wilco. I steal most of the ACL tickets myself so I can have leg room during tapings. Also, I love Wilco.