No photos this time. Kind of glad, actually. You can't fully experience moments like these if you're busy with your finger on the shutter button. You just have to close your eyes and let the music infiltrate your bones. But don't forget to open them sometimes, because there's a damn good show going on in front of you.
Last night Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes played a private show at a lounge in Midtown. Supposedly, this place has a "no photography" policy, but once the show started, sneaky little hands started whipping out their cameras all around the stage. At first, pangs of jealousy shot through my body as I realized my camera could be capturing this. But those pangs subsided quickly as it became apparent that this was one of those moments that can not be contained within the frame of a camera.
Right from the beginning, Alex Ebert would travel the length of the intimate stage (it is not raised on any sot of platform), which sometimes might cause him to become obscured from your view. Not that there was nothing to see when he wasn't in front of you. Your eyes could drift over to the pianist (whose piano Ebert spent the course of a couple songs singing from atop of), they could take in the sight of the tambourine man, or the drummer who wasn't afraid to use his hands, either of the guitarists, or the trumpeter, the blonde (and sorry to say it, not very happy looking) accordionist, or another person playing another instrument that I probably just couldn't see.
Then there was Jane. There is no other way to describe her but the face and hair of Audrey Tautou in Amélie, and the voice of a choir of angels. Yes, not just one, a whole choir. She could captivate anyone with those pipes and when she and Ebert sang to one another, the love that pervaded the room was palpable.
As the show went on, one could honestly be brought close to tears. Okay, I was brought close to tears. Whatever, it was beautiful. When the band played "Home" people really started to lose it. Ebert and his band play with their hearts and souls, and every vessel in their being. They don't want their magic to be lost, they want to spread it around and gather everyone in to feel their passion. Ebert grabbed our corner of the stage and started clapping his hands at a quick and tight pace, and as everyone he beckoned to felt compelled to join in, the speed of the clapping escalated but no one missed a beat. At the end it was like exaltation, my friend and I looked at one another and all I could say was,
"Did you feel that?"
I suppose it helps that he looks like Jesus.
Included are a couple of songs by the band in case you are not familiar. Honestly, this music is best suited for being heard live, outside in the open, with your feet bare and the dirt of the earth beneath them. But if you have the chance to see them live anywhere, take it.
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