Ben Gibbard, one of my favorite contemporary songwriters, is in the midst of what is surely an amazing solo acoustic tour. If you value the subtle poignancy of his lyrics and vocals with his band Death Cab for Cutie, then this is the type of show you will love. I have wanted to discuss their work for a long time but never felt like I had much to offer. Not that I have that now, but I wanted to alert others to a great show that NPR has made available. The show is available to stream and while supplies last, available for download through the All Songs Considered Podcast. David Bazan is supporting Gibbard on this tour, and his set is also available. In other words, it is a tour that should not be missed.
Gibbard offers a great set of music mixing DCFC standards, some key Postal Service numbers and some surprising covers (Most notable was the stunning take on another Seattle band's timeless acoustic gem). He moved back in forth between acoustic guitar and piano and never lost the thrilling dynamic of such an intimate performance. In the process, he fended off lots of belligerent crowd chatter and annoyingly ignorant suggestions. There was, however, one really bizarre moment that stands out. Though Gibbard traversed the hysteria quite deftly, it deserves, I think, some careful reflection.
Even though it has been awhile since I have seen a show in the States, the last I saw before the transatlantic move were on the whole really poor examples of crowd cooperation. I have to say that American audiences could learn a great deal from Brits about respecting the artist at a live show. This outburst, however, transcends the typical fare of crowd idiocy.
Not to spoil the surprise, Gibbard closes his encore with an earnest goodbye, his song "I will follow you into the dark." For those of you that might be unfamiliar, I have included the lyrics below. It is a somber, acoustic tune that basically confronts the whole issue of dying alone. Not exactly a rousing bar tune to be sure.
Well, as Gibbard concludes the final verse in the moment just before returning to the promissory chorus once again, he sings "the blackest of rooms" and some really enthused fan screams out: "F*ck Yeah!!!" Gibbard takes the moment in stride, as if something that ridiculous happens often. He pauses on the chord and simply inquires: "F*ck yeah?... That's like the last thing I would yell at that part." Having posed his question and received overwhelming praise from the crowd for the profundity of his query, Gibbard then commences to finish the song unhindered. "What a strange night?" thought the power pop, indie frontman.
I just wonder what it means when even moments like that can be squandered by some crude concert-goer. I mean, who these days is coming to introspective indie rock shows, and acoustic ones at that?!? This is the leader of Death Cab for Cutie were talking about and not the Rage Against the Machine reunion tour. Here, we have maybe the only example of a contemporary pop song that tries to deal carefully with universal anxiety and doubt we all feel about the inevitable moment of death and what sort of solace we can take in facing it, and this guy wants to yell "F*ck yeah!"
I appreciate the honesty of the song and more than that I am really thankful that someone out there making music still has the curiosity to consider such moments. But for anyone that knows Gibbard's songwriting skills, this is yet another powerful moment stolen from everyday life, redeemed with emotional clarity through a pop song and given to us to consider. Would that more elements of pop culture could offer a similar gift.
I have one request for everyone attending a show on this tour. If you're not going to pause to consider the significance behind what Gibbard is singing, please at least pause to ask yourself: "Is this the right moment to scream 'F*ck yeah'?" Thanks.
Gibbard offers a great set of music mixing DCFC standards, some key Postal Service numbers and some surprising covers (Most notable was the stunning take on another Seattle band's timeless acoustic gem). He moved back in forth between acoustic guitar and piano and never lost the thrilling dynamic of such an intimate performance. In the process, he fended off lots of belligerent crowd chatter and annoyingly ignorant suggestions. There was, however, one really bizarre moment that stands out. Though Gibbard traversed the hysteria quite deftly, it deserves, I think, some careful reflection.
Even though it has been awhile since I have seen a show in the States, the last I saw before the transatlantic move were on the whole really poor examples of crowd cooperation. I have to say that American audiences could learn a great deal from Brits about respecting the artist at a live show. This outburst, however, transcends the typical fare of crowd idiocy.
Not to spoil the surprise, Gibbard closes his encore with an earnest goodbye, his song "I will follow you into the dark." For those of you that might be unfamiliar, I have included the lyrics below. It is a somber, acoustic tune that basically confronts the whole issue of dying alone. Not exactly a rousing bar tune to be sure.
"I Will Follow You Into the Dark"
Love of mine some day you will die
But I'll be close behind
I'll follow you into the dark
No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white
Just our hands clasped so tight
Waiting for the hint of a spark
If Heaven and Hell decide
That they both are satisfied
To illuminate the NOs on their vacancy signs
If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark
In Catholic school as vicious as Roman rule
I got my knuckles bruised by a lady in black
And I held my tongue as she told me
"Son fear is the heart of love"
So I never went back
If Heaven and Hell decide
That they both are satisfied
To illuminate the NOs on their vacancy signs
If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark
You and me have seen everything to see
From Bangkok to Calgary
And the soles of your shoes are all worn down
The time for sleep is now
It's nothing to cry about
Cause we'll hold each other soon
The blackest of rooms
If Heaven and Hell decide
That they both are satisfied
To illuminate the NOs on their vacancy signs
If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark
Love of mine some day you will die
But I'll be close behind
I'll follow you into the dark
No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white
Just our hands clasped so tight
Waiting for the hint of a spark
If Heaven and Hell decide
That they both are satisfied
To illuminate the NOs on their vacancy signs
If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark
In Catholic school as vicious as Roman rule
I got my knuckles bruised by a lady in black
And I held my tongue as she told me
"Son fear is the heart of love"
So I never went back
If Heaven and Hell decide
That they both are satisfied
To illuminate the NOs on their vacancy signs
If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark
You and me have seen everything to see
From Bangkok to Calgary
And the soles of your shoes are all worn down
The time for sleep is now
It's nothing to cry about
Cause we'll hold each other soon
The blackest of rooms
If Heaven and Hell decide
That they both are satisfied
To illuminate the NOs on their vacancy signs
If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark
Then I'll follow you into the dark
Well, as Gibbard concludes the final verse in the moment just before returning to the promissory chorus once again, he sings "the blackest of rooms" and some really enthused fan screams out: "F*ck Yeah!!!" Gibbard takes the moment in stride, as if something that ridiculous happens often. He pauses on the chord and simply inquires: "F*ck yeah?... That's like the last thing I would yell at that part." Having posed his question and received overwhelming praise from the crowd for the profundity of his query, Gibbard then commences to finish the song unhindered. "What a strange night?" thought the power pop, indie frontman.
I just wonder what it means when even moments like that can be squandered by some crude concert-goer. I mean, who these days is coming to introspective indie rock shows, and acoustic ones at that?!? This is the leader of Death Cab for Cutie were talking about and not the Rage Against the Machine reunion tour. Here, we have maybe the only example of a contemporary pop song that tries to deal carefully with universal anxiety and doubt we all feel about the inevitable moment of death and what sort of solace we can take in facing it, and this guy wants to yell "F*ck yeah!"
I appreciate the honesty of the song and more than that I am really thankful that someone out there making music still has the curiosity to consider such moments. But for anyone that knows Gibbard's songwriting skills, this is yet another powerful moment stolen from everyday life, redeemed with emotional clarity through a pop song and given to us to consider. Would that more elements of pop culture could offer a similar gift.
I have one request for everyone attending a show on this tour. If you're not going to pause to consider the significance behind what Gibbard is singing, please at least pause to ask yourself: "Is this the right moment to scream 'F*ck yeah'?" Thanks.
