Peak Moments
The one (thee wun) n:
Peak event. Culmination of all events in a given day, weekend, week, month, year, and for the most supreme peaks… life.It's as if everything I've ever done in my life brought me to this point. From listening to my first tape to defying my mother and going to my first Dead show. From dropping out of college to working at this particular firm which allows me the right number of days off. From the car accident which allowed me to get my radiator replaced, keep the car on the road and, drive to the show; to the traffic jam we sat in which allowed my friends who drove separately to catch up and miraculously park next to us. This was especially nice, as we'd left from 2 different towns at different times with little or no plan to meet. All of this allowed us to be here together which means that, while Phish is rising to the highest moment of the best Hood ever played, I'm perfectly buzzed and surrounded by people I love and everything is right in the world and just as soon as they sing it… I'll feel it.
"You can feel good, good, good about Hood!"
That moment stretches out to last an eternity. My senses explode. My eyes are closed but the light show on my eyelids is dazzling. I was cotton mouthed but now I taste honey. My ears are filled with the greatest of music and my whole body tingles with joy and release-- a full sensory orgasm provoked by the stimulation of the musical g-spot in my brain.
I live for moments like these. They come quite spread out in regular life. Like the birth of my daughter and when she runs up and hugs me or says "I love you Daddy". The feeling of being in love. Or standing on top of Mt Marcy in New York and leaning over a ledge into the wind, letting the gale hold me and keep me from plummeting off the precipice. Those moments are great; but live music is something that I can actively seek out that really sends me.
At an average show I often dance my ass of and have a good time but then there are the other shows. For example, when The Grateful Dead had just finished playing "Don't Ease" way too early in the set and then Phil stepped up...
"Blue light rain, woah Unbroken Chain…"
My God. The chills. It was so amazing. There were definitely better versions later that year but; your first time is always the sweetest. That really got me. And to think of all that had led up to it... It was my second ever attempt to go to a show without a ticket and try and find one. I thought of the miles I walked around the Spectrum looking for my ticket and the excitement when, at 5pm-ish, I found one that wasn't counterfeit! All of this led up to that one song. After the song was over (as was the set) I crashed into my seat. Everybody was smiling. Strangers were hugging each other. I received several hugs and a small glitter sticker from some people in front of me who wore laminates. I felt aglow yet emotionally drained. How could that be topped in the second set or in the rest of my life? I very nearly got up and walked out to the lot to tell my waiting friends of what had just happened. But, of course, I didn't. After hearing the story about the guy who walked out on a "Saturday Night" encore and missed the second encore: "Ripple" at Cap Center (9/3/88); I never walked out on the Grateful Dead.
Of course I've been brought back to that peak since that night; and it certainly wasn't the first time. Richfield Coliseum 3/21/94 Lovelight-> Stella Blue-> Lovelight comes to mind and brings shivers of joy. The Dead did it to me a couple more times that year before Jerry passed.
Then there was Phish. Of course Phish had been there all along but admittedly my touring priorities had been with the Dead. Providence '94... Check out that Bowie. Or read my review. Nissan '95- Phish got me again with Curtain-> Stash and a dynamite Tweezer! Two peaks, one night.
There are also the "peak moments" which last longer than the standard "moment". Perhaps for an entire set or even and entire show. When the groove grows so strong you feel yourself devolve into a more primal being (Australopithecus Funkadelicus). Like during Zero's set at Wilmer’s last year when Kimock triggered neon Day-Glo Ferris wheels in my mind as I danced straight through their show.
Or at the LemonWheel: day one, set two. I'd have to look up the set list to tell you what was played aside from "The Wedge" but I can say that I grooved extraordinarily hard to that set and for the rest of the night. Phish had it. They did it. They took me there and kept me there. It felt very much that every moment, from the minute I drove away from Limestone, Maine in 1997, had been spent working towards this set; this feeling. This ONE PURE THING which was truly mine and hopefully everyone else's at the same time.
Some folks get possessive or argumentative about their peak moments. These things are purely subjective so it's understandably hard to be objective about them. I've seen versions of "Bird Song" that make me melt in ecstasy, whereas one of my best friends doesn't really dig the song. Frankly, I'm a bit appalled at the idea of "not digging Bird Song" but, after all, its just a matter of taste.
"If I was moved and shaken to tears, laughter, smiles and, shivers all at the same time,
then you must have been or you weren't at the same show I was at."For the most part, nobody is really at the same show. Unless you are truly in a beautiful synchronization with the folks with which you went to the show (and I'm not saying that that can't happen ;-) ), then odds are you see and hear things quite differently. Everyone's experiences leading up to what is your "peak moment" are different. From their childhood to the parking lot.
All of this is why I see shows. Well, some shows anyway. I am forever in search of that ideal peak moment. From the moment when the lights go down and the roar of the crowd goes up as the band steps out onto the stage, I am hopping with excitement and anticipation. As they settle into their places-- the keyboard player tinkles a few keys, the guitar player finds his first chord and, the drummer tests the snap of his snare-- I strain my ears to hear the first identifiable strains of a song. They begin; sometimes slow, sometimes fast. Some nights we all need a chance to warm up and shake the cobwebs from our joints. Other nights they take us up into the heavens with the opening notes and directly into a glorious jam. I am no longer dancing when the band is truly inspired... When "the hose" is on full blast. I am merely a marionette- dangled by guitar strings and bouncing from piano keys to tom-tom skins- awash in waves of bass.
During an "ordinary" jam (whatever that really is) I am generally conscious of what I am hearing and move my focus between the instruments. During those next level ("hose") jams I hear the music as a whole. Each instrument makes itself known to my mind and body. My arms follow the guitar, my feet the drums, my spine the bass and so forth... This collective listening rotates as different solos or directions in the jam take shape. As the sonic tension builds, I can feel it inside. This is a peak moment. Everything that brought me to this place in space and time comes back to me and I am grateful for it all. Sometimes I am so emotionally moved that I cannot physically move. As the moment builds within me there are times that it plateaus and I am gliding on a plain of bliss. But when it's a full tension and release peak, there is a moment when my spirit explodes and I feel as if I am part of the room and everything I've been through to get here is all worthwhile. I am smiling, jumping up and down, crying and laughing; my body racked with ecstasy. And I am left in something akin to post-coital bliss; smiling and relaxed.
"The moment ends and I feel winds."
And if that doesn't make you want to see a good show this summer, nothing will.
©1999- JMH
About the Author jmh is a family man who is thankfull for beer, LPs, and extra guitar strings. Donations of any of these things or cash for their purchase will be happily accepted.