Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Were They Ever Here At All?

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Does music leave scars on buildings like it does on hearts? Maybe a venue is like a coffee cup, and the inside gets stained after years of use, darkening and thickening and flavoring every cup thereafter. Or like resin on a bowl, and you could take a paper clip to, say, the Fabulous Fox and scrape off the gooey leavings?

Maybe venues have favorite bands; maybe they trade tapes; maybe some nights, they suffer through the acts just like the audience.

An old roadie I know told me that if you were in a theater on a night it was dark, and you listened carefully, you could hear it singing to itself. I don’t know how trustworthy old roadies are, though.

5 Comments

  1. I can tell you from experience, people look at you funny when they jog along that track and you’re dancing to Dancin’ with your headphones on in the middle…

  2. Among
    of
    green

    stiff
    old
    bright

    broken
    branch
    come

    white
    sweet
    May

    again

  3. Nothing sounds like Barton Hall. You can hear the sound of the room on the Seamons matrix in the drum intro to the Dancin’ – the snares bouncing off the back wall and back at the crowd. There’s a resonance that you can only get in a massive gym with a rubber floor, wooden seats, and lead glass windows. It’s something else.

  4. Also, this is the only actual photo I’ve ever found. Somehow it doesn’t seem like there were many cameras there.

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