Lift Yr. Skinny Fists, Like Antennas to Heaven...

Saw Godspeed You! Back Emperor last night.

It was incredible to say the least.

Sitting in the back of the Great American Music Hall, overlooking the crowd, seated behind the sound system, we had the best seats in the house.

Their show was a combination of fervent melodic post-rock and layers of film played over each other, in once case, the film was burned and warped in time to the music, then played back. The whole experience was intense, moving inspirational.

Between watching the films and taking in the music, my mind was transported to places it never visits and often tries to forget. There were memories of pain, of fevers, of places across the world, of coldness spreading from the inside out, of waiting in clinics, to sitting on the park bench with that boy who, only a few months later, would throw himself off the Golden Gate Bridge (how's that for a cliche), to pills force fed, people lost, bridges burned, my heart felt like it was breaking into a million pieces. And somehow, the whole thing seemed palatable.

I could keep going with thousands of useless words, but I feel as though my words would be doing the band a great injustice.