This was the first indoor show I attended since Jan. 2020, which is by far the longest stretch of my adult life. Probably and then some. I’ve never thought of Clifton, NJ, as my “safe space” over, say, the moon or anywhere else, but Swallow the Sun were supposed to play Dingbatz in that forgotten Spring of 2020, and I was looking forward to it since the announcement in Dec. 2019, so to see them now, almost two years and so many grey hairs later, feels a bit like symmetry in an asymmetrical time. To call it “post-pandemic” would only be wrong if one thinks about it in terms of the pandemic being over.

The last time I was at Dingbatz was probably over a decade ago. I don’t remember what or when. But the room was much as I remembered, and the bill — extra loaded with five bands, which was two locals on front of the three touring acts — was running late when I walked in. Abigail Williams was getting ready to go on, when according to the schedule I saw they should’ve been playing. Some things, then, never encounter variants. But I’ve always liked the place. Its silly bat mural was covered by Swallow the Sun‘s banner, if it’s still there at all.

Masks were rare. I had one and was warm with it on. Several others near me up front did too, and I was no less comforted by the fact that the dude to my right was also wearing sweatpants, though I didn’t see the name of his blog on the leg, which I’m not sure makes me better or worse off. Jersey metal holding its own on a Monday night. I missed Wilderun, but there was a momentary mosh while Abigail Williams played, which was adorable.

The four-piece were, incidentally, beset with technical difficulties from the outset. Before the outset, even. I kind of had the feeling when they threw up their hands and decided to go without the stage monitors that maybe it wasn’t going to be a career-highlight set for them. They ended up stopping what seemed to be early if it wasn’t, and were clearly frustrated. Sound was clipping, coming in and disappearing, vocals ultra-loud, then gone. On the way to the venue, the bluetooth in my car kept dropping out in the middle of songs. Frontman Ken Sorceron from Abigail Williams sounded like that. No fault of his own.

I don’t imagine that’s easy for a band in any circumstances, let alone one who’ve been together for over 15 years, playing a tour that’s been delayed by more than a year. I felt for the dude. He said that if anyone wanted to hear the band sound much better, to make the short trip to New York for the next show. I wouldn’t be doing that, but I wondered whether one shitty Monday night on a long tour matters to someone who’s been doing it so long, or if a couple days from now it’ll be forgotten. I guess it depends on how sensitive you are generally, how much you can write that kind of thing off. Between the bands, Saliva‘s “Click Click Boom” played on repeat, and I was reminded a bit why I felt relief when lockdown started last March. Fate is a total asshole, if you believe in that kind of thing.

My alarm had gone off at 5:30AM. I am not in “show-shape,” as I otherwise might be, and I’ll admit to being distracted by folks wearing bare faces around me, considerations of scary headlines from reputable sources, sweating in my mask, feet sore after an embarrassingly short amount of time, breathing in the fog machine, clicking, clicking, booming. Swallow the Sun‘s setup took a while. I’ve had the same headache for four weeks running. Can’t remember when I inhaled that hammer. I wished I had a bottle of water. I had downed an extra pot of coffee to prepare for being awake later than 8:30PM. Canceled a dermatology appointment in the morning. Clear my calendar. Edna, hold all my calls.

The coffee might’ve made the difference in, say, my ability to remain standing as long as I did. Despite my bizarre-headspace, there were a couple genuine moments of communion when Swallow the Sun played. The room, packed at the start of the set, thinned out as it edged toward midnight, but cuts like “Falling World,” “Firelights,” “New Moon” and the pairing of “Woven into Sorrow” and “This House Has No Home” from the recently issued Moonflowers (review here) had heads banging in more than just my own languid doomer nod. People were going for it.

Those last two finished out a regular set that had led off with “Moonflowers Bloom in Misery” and “The Enemy” from the same record, and I suppose that part of the challenge after 20 years is what to put in the set and what to leave out. I wouldn’t have minded “When a Shadow is Forced into the Light,” but you can’t have everything. The encore, with “Plague of Butterflies Pt. 2” and “Swallow,” was rightly and duly appreciated by those who remained, and I was one of them, though I’ll confess I’d moved to the back by then. No new album at the merch table. The live album, sure. Alas.

A show. With hoo-mans. I’ll spare you the list of gigs I’ve missed since concerts started happening in the face of covid, but there have been plenty. I don’t know if it was the fact that the band came from Finland to play Clifton or what, but there was something about this show that finally got me out of the house. Does that mean I’m about to become Johnny Outandabout? Yeah probably not. But this was a moment out of my own head that I haven’t had in too long and from here I’ll take it one at a time; show, day, minute. One thing — I was not surprised in the least to find out how much I’ve missed love music. I’ve known that all along.

Close eyes, pull out earplugs just a little bit for “Swallow” while they build that chug into sudden oblivion. “Thank you. Good night.” Indeed.

This tour rolls on — New York next, as Ken Sorceron from Abigail Williams assured — and when it’s done, Swallow the Sun will go back to Europe for an even longer stretch there supporting Moonflowers. Who the hell knows if those dates will happen, and who the hell knows when I’ll get myself out again to another venue, another town, or hell, to Dingbatz again for who knows what. I certainly don’t. But at least for the next few minutes I’m not going to worry about it, because if there’s a lesson amid all the bullshit of the last two years, isn’t it to be thankful for what you have while you have it because it can all evaporate faster than you ever thought?

When the show was over, I went outside, took off my mask. Cold air on my face. Felt like I could breathe a little bit, you know?

Thanks for reading.

Tags: Century Media, Finland, Jyväskylä, Moonflowers, Swallow the Sun, Swallow the Sun Moonflowers

This entry was posted on Tuesday, November 30th, 2021 at 9:04 am and is filed under Reviews. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.