The Aftermath of a Show

There's something about music that just resonates. Whether it be the siren ringing of your ears for days after, the soiled stranger's sweat on your clothes from an excursion in the pit, or the eighty year old smoker voice you magically attain through screaming you face off. Coupling all these things together brings up the greatest experience we ever truly let ourselves embrace. Music. It’s the great unifier. It's finding yourself in a venue; lights dim, vision hazy, everyone's shuffling around at the edges of the stage waiting idly, your heart's fluttering in anticipation of your own personal play list being fulfilled, and finally it all begins with a sound. Soon the music has you moving; as though invisible puppet strings were causing kinesthesia to burst from the inside out, and your utterly powerless to stop the beat of your body.

Imagine it as a culmination of many factors coming together to form a euphoria that lasts only as long as a note holds out, or feedback reverberates through the speakers--yet it is the purity of the moment that we must cherish. It’s realizing how in the aftermath of a show/concert you feel thoroughly changed somehow. Emanating from the core of your being it's as though you've experienced every emotion possible in the span of mere minutes, and your body is in shock and attempting to recover from the maelstrom you've just inflicted. As volatile as it is liberating, the wild abandon of losing yourself in the music is an enticement we are all but incapable of withstanding.

I find myself now in the aftermath. My bruised feet speak sermons to me, while ears protest coherency for onomatopoeia ringing sounds, and I find myself on the verge of imploding from the sure ecstasy of feeling within me. What I'm experiencing is the aftershock of a truly visceral response to sound, and in the multitudinous hours that follow I can only stare in amazement at the capacity of experience I’m capable of feeling through the sounds of music