A man slouches in a wheelchair. His body is still except for his hand which covers some switches on the right side of the wheelchair. Not far from him, directly in front of the stage, two young girls are jumping up and down, their hip-length hair making wide arcs around their back.
I recall seeing the women three hours earlier and they were doing the same exact dance. I wonder about their experience of the music and that of the man in the wheelchair. I consider my own night.
The headliners now playing, Forrest Day, bring a range of jazz/pop/rap/rock sound to the club. Sometimes I just listen to their lyrics and sound and sometime I move if the music powers my body. I’m impressed enough to consider looking them up later on YouTube.
The previous band, Oona, was more about danceabilityand and connecting to the audience than the lyrics. The lead singer had stylish bottled blonde hair, an off the shoulder shimmery shirt and sexy shorts that focused the attention on her. She connected to the audience by talking in-between sets and by going off stage into the audience. I don’t remember any of their songs or music but I had a great time dancing and enjoyed the show.
The opening act, Lavish Green, was more about sound than about lyrics as I couldn’t decipher the lyrics despite the club being somewhat empty when they came on. I sipped my gin-and-tonic and danced but I also wished that the volume was lower so that I wouldn’t feel so overpowered by the sound and need to yell so that my friend could hear what I was saying.
I look over to the man in the wheelchair, the women jumping around, the rest of the audience listening or dancing or doing both. Everyone is transported, somehow. And that’s all that matters.
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