[Pfingstgeflüsters Magazine] A Pure Moment of Communal Elevation
PUBLIÉ INITIALEMENT DANS LE Pfingstgeflüsters Magazine (en anglais seulement)
Lisez l’article original en allemand ici
We arrived in Leipzig early, driving from Paris where we had a 3-day pre-production for our upcoming tour that started that night at the Wave-Gotik-Treffen, the starting point of 34 concerts stretched all over Europe and the UK, which I knew would be incredibly special. After touring the world for about 10 years with my previous band Your Favorite Enemies, I now not only have the wonderful privilege to headline my own tour under my name for the first time, but more importantly, I have the blessing to share the intimate emotions that gave life to my album Windows in the Sky with the people to whom I have spent the whole pandemic period writing personal handwritten letters and sent postcards. I am also deeply humbled by the prospect of being part of such a human stream of let go, as I was highly febrile regarding that new adventure about to unfold its singular wonders for me to be transformed a little more each day, especially as I believe that there are no purest sensations then having a real communion with others; there are no more strangers in such personal offerings of self, only a soulful wave blooming on the same heartbeat made of everyone’s unicity, a transcendent wave of freedom. That’s the only thing that matters to me, the rest is only noise and lament.
That’s why, every time my frantic touring schedule allows me to do so, I like to walk around before every concert… I find a place to sit on a terrace, look at everyone’s existence, and try to define the nature of time trying to catch up on our lives. That instant, having a coffee or a glass of wine, turns the quiet witness that I am into an integral part of the motion evolving right before my eyes. I’m suddenly radiating through the colors of the ongoing scenes, like a moving photograph captured by someone in the distance. There’s no more distinction between the multiple personas featured in that vivid reel of tidal fluctuation of reality, flourishing to its own rhythm, away from our need for absoluteness and truth, as our minds are deprived of the sterile essence of tangibility. We can let our imagination, like its emancipative perception, offer us a greater exploratory vision of the shape and form of the vibe. The spirit of a place resides in our willingness to see, feel, and become one with the immateriality of its ever-transformative movement. The upcoming night’s concert starts there for me, it defines it all, from my disposition to becoming whole with the audience, to seeing the unexpected magic that only the invisible can create through self-abandonment, to the songs that will make it to the setlist. Everything that truly matters grows from that fragile and vulnerable moment in time.
Therefore, vagabonding around the streets of Leipzig during the Wave-Gotik-Treffen was incredibly inspiring for me. I haven’t seen many people impersonating characters, even though the costumes were absolutely phenomenal. What I saw were people generously expressing who they are. I didn’t see symbols of death, even though the usually darkened symbolisms were in a full glorious display; no, I saw regenerated lights. I didn’t see individualism disparities amongst the crowd, even though I could perceive a multiplication of tribes; no, I saw a unified diversity glowing in bright splendors. Everyone was beautiful in their own right, and it served as a grandiose reminder that I’m not alone, that I, indeed, belong here, that I was home amongst the heterogeneity mirroring its rare uplifting characteristics all over the city. That ensemble of profound sentiments was moving enough within me to know the upcoming concert would be way greater than I would ever be by standing on my own or by waiting to be applauded for something that would always be too honest for me to own, as it’s all about communion.
I used to be emotionally paralyzed when it came to playing my music in public. I was actually terrified, struggling with the fear of being laughed at, being rejected, afraid I’d never meet others’ expectations, that I’d let my friends down, that I’d disappoint and be a disappointment, scared of failing and being a failure… I was so anxious that I would be sick before every single event, be it in front of 20 utterly enthusiasts in Sydney, Australia, or while headlining an outdoor festival in Taipei, Taiwan, in front of a 90,000-people crowd. I just couldn’t control myself, nor was I able to rationalize my restlessness. It took me quite some time to accept that total inner disruption, to acknowledge that I was so profoundly damaged inside that I’d been affectively drifting away for a while already. That’s why I had to take a break from Your Favorite Enemies; not to find my way back but to determine who I wanted to be. And if I wasn’t able to comprehend the origin of my brokenness, I knew I had the ability, if not the power, to decide otherwise. It led me on a long journey of personal healing — or at least, of recovery — a new state of mind allowing me to dwell on whatever opportunity I might have to meet others and to see every “hello”, every wink, every hug, and every conversation as a priceless gift, which explains how I went from struggling with agoraphobia to being the last one to leave the venue after I made sure that I’d talked with absolutely everyone looking to chat with me after every concert, may it be a delicate type of intimate show or a ridiculously massive festival. That human connection has the utmost relevance for me now, it’s the most meaningful element there is, the fundamental core by which everything else not only exists but is consequential.
Everything went amazingly well from the second we arrived at the Schauspielhaus Hall. The crew was absolutely phenomenal with us and we were welcomed with a genuine earnestness and even allowed a soundcheck in the afternoon, which is the most precious gift of all considering that is it usually close to impossible to have such luxury when playing festivals, even as headliners. As this was the first concert of such an extensive tour, it was not only an immensely gracious gesture but a stress annihilator too, especially as our soundcheck felt marvelously good for everyone involved, from the technicals to the band’s sound and cohesion and the sharpness of my voice. There’s nothing like a good soundcheck for me to lose myself back into the meaning of the songs… I like to feel the low-end vibrations rumbling under my feet, a weightlessness of sorts, as if my body could suddenly defy gravity, allowing my mind to travel in a newborn dimension for a split second. There’s no more self-consciousness nor self-preservation, just a serene flow of exhalation. It’s rare for me to experience that state of elevation during soundcheck; I’m usually too focused on making sure technicals won’t get in the way of a potential upcoming uplift or simply too absorbed by my own inability to surrender my ever-glowing insecurities to the emancipative character of the sonic atmosphere shining through the air as the band gets in tune… Standing on the large stage of this magnificent theatre, I was tremendously grateful to be already disposed for whatever could lift us all up later that night.
That’s why, every time my frantic touring schedule allows me to do so, I like to walk around before every concert… I find a place to sit on a terrace, look at everyone’s existence, and try to define the nature of time trying to catch up on our lives. That instant, having a coffee or a glass of wine, turns the quiet witness that I am into an integral part of the motion evolving right before my eyes. I’m suddenly radiating through the colors of the ongoing scenes, like a moving photograph captured by someone in the distance. There’s no more distinction between the multiple personas featured in that vivid reel of tidal fluctuation of reality, flourishing to its own rhythm, away from our need for absoluteness and truth, as our minds are deprived of the sterile essence of tangibility. We can let our imagination, like its emancipative perception, offer us a greater exploratory vision of the shape and form of the vibe. The spirit of a place resides in our willingness to see, feel, and become one with the immateriality of its ever-transformative movement. The upcoming night’s concert starts there for me, it defines it all, from my disposition to becoming whole with the audience, to seeing the unexpected magic that only the invisible can create through self-abandonment, to the songs that will make it to the setlist. Everything that truly matters grows from that fragile and vulnerable moment in time.
Therefore, vagabonding around the streets of Leipzig during the Wave-Gotik-Treffen was incredibly inspiring for me. I haven’t seen many people impersonating characters, even though the costumes were absolutely phenomenal. What I saw were people generously expressing who they are. I didn’t see symbols of death, even though the usually darkened symbolisms were in a full glorious display; no, I saw regenerated lights. I didn’t see individualism disparities amongst the crowd, even though I could perceive a multiplication of tribes; no, I saw a unified diversity glowing in bright splendors. Everyone was beautiful in their own right, and it served as a grandiose reminder that I’m not alone, that I, indeed, belong here, that I was home amongst the heterogeneity mirroring its rare uplifting characteristics all over the city. That ensemble of profound sentiments was moving enough within me to know the upcoming concert would be way greater than I would ever be by standing on my own or by waiting to be applauded for something that would always be too honest for me to own, as it’s all about communion.
I used to be emotionally paralyzed when it came to playing my music in public. I was actually terrified, struggling with the fear of being laughed at, being rejected, afraid I’d never meet others’ expectations, that I’d let my friends down, that I’d disappoint and be a disappointment, scared of failing and being a failure… I was so anxious that I would be sick before every single event, be it in front of 20 utterly enthusiasts in Sydney, Australia, or while headlining an outdoor festival in Taipei, Taiwan, in front of a 90,000-people crowd. I just couldn’t control myself, nor was I able to rationalize my restlessness. It took me quite some time to accept that total inner disruption, to acknowledge that I was so profoundly damaged inside that I’d been affectively drifting away for a while already. That’s why I had to take a break from Your Favorite Enemies; not to find my way back but to determine who I wanted to be. And if I wasn’t able to comprehend the origin of my brokenness, I knew I had the ability, if not the power, to decide otherwise. It led me on a long journey of personal healing — or at least, of recovery — a new state of mind allowing me to dwell on whatever opportunity I might have to meet others and to see every “hello”, every wink, every hug, and every conversation as a priceless gift, which explains how I went from struggling with agoraphobia to being the last one to leave the venue after I made sure that I’d talked with absolutely everyone looking to chat with me after every concert, may it be a delicate type of intimate show or a ridiculously massive festival. That human connection has the utmost relevance for me now, it’s the most meaningful element there is, the fundamental core by which everything else not only exists but is consequential.
Everything went amazingly well from the second we arrived at the Schauspielhaus Hall. The crew was absolutely phenomenal with us and we were welcomed with a genuine earnestness and even allowed a soundcheck in the afternoon, which is the most precious gift of all considering that is it usually close to impossible to have such luxury when playing festivals, even as headliners. As this was the first concert of such an extensive tour, it was not only an immensely gracious gesture but a stress annihilator too, especially as our soundcheck felt marvelously good for everyone involved, from the technicals to the band’s sound and cohesion and the sharpness of my voice. There’s nothing like a good soundcheck for me to lose myself back into the meaning of the songs… I like to feel the low-end vibrations rumbling under my feet, a weightlessness of sorts, as if my body could suddenly defy gravity, allowing my mind to travel in a newborn dimension for a split second. There’s no more self-consciousness nor self-preservation, just a serene flow of exhalation. It’s rare for me to experience that state of elevation during soundcheck; I’m usually too focused on making sure technicals won’t get in the way of a potential upcoming uplift or simply too absorbed by my own inability to surrender my ever-glowing insecurities to the emancipative character of the sonic atmosphere shining through the air as the band gets in tune… Standing on the large stage of this magnificent theatre, I was tremendously grateful to be already disposed for whatever could lift us all up later that night.
I used to despise the stagnant period between the soundcheck and the actual beginning of the concert, a period where self-doubts, apprehensions, and uncertainties tend to submerge me with all sorts of past disruptions, results of old collapses. It all goes down to the fragility of my identity and my lack of self-confidence… That’s why I have adopted a form of visualization based on a voice-warming humming. It’s as calming as it helps me centralize my attention to a positive projection of what’s ahead. Some transitions are better than others, and when I am unable to calm myself or maintain an emotional balance, I meditate on what my late father told me a few hours before he passed: “Stop avoiding the light, Alex. Embrace the marvels life created for you to embody. There’s no shame in being frightened by what you can’t comprehend. Accept that we are all part unknown and mysteries. Explore, discover, make mistakes, turn around, go in any direction you feel like going, but just don’t accept becoming inert, paralyzed like you’ve been for some time now.” Those words resonate loudly within me when I’m looking for control… That last conversation with my late father destroyed most of the everlasting barricades I believed were indestructible once I had elected to hide who I truly was in their midst. Freedom comes with a self-exposure I’m still barely able — if hardly ever — to deal with… so much for a solo artist opening up about his deepest fears in front of people night after night, right?
“Alright guys, showtime!” resonates like a gong of reality. The march towards the stage represents a solemn motion for me, every step adding to the rhythmic mantra I’m projecting the universe with, like a whispering prayer through which I prepare my incredulous eyes to see. I take my guitar. Everyone gets on stage. And here we are. I’ve learned to begin with a long instrumental song in order to relax the tension and uprightness in my muscles, the pressure in my throat. For the occasion, I determined the instrumental moment titled Ouverture would be on top of the setlist, setting the tone of the musical journey ahead. Introspective and intense, dreamy and cathartic, it’s a song I particularly like to play on the guitar as it relies on multiple layers of feedbacks. It’s delicate in a very abrasive way. As I tell myself just how amazing it sounds, how serene I am, my guitar stops working, and my pedal board lit up like a Christmas tree on December 24th. I freaked out inside and immediately lost it, reminding myself of every time it happened in the past, self-fiasco if there is. I instantly imagined everything collapsing, live, in front of so many people. I hardly breathed, clearly having a panic attack as I have experienced so many times in the past. And when it happens, I kind of blacked out, which usually leads to forgetting my lyrics and parts of the songs, to over-compensate by screaming instead of singing, to do frantic things like climbing to the second-level balcony and jump backwards into the crowd… It has a great entertaining effect, but a disastrous soulful appeal. And once I lose it, it’s a downward spiral from then on. I knew it. The band members knew it, too.
Trying to find my emotional footing back, I slowly went to my microphone in order to start Slow Pace of the Winds. I felt out of breath, hesitant, and paralyzed, so I decided to take a little more time before shouting the first words. And while I didn’t want to look at the audience — I’m always a little intimated to look at people at the beginning of a concert — I never want to force any self-absorbed affective cadence to a moment that will generate its own motion if left to bloom on its own. But in what turned out to be some kind of blessed offering to me as I was trying to find my way back into the now, I noticed a woman with her arms in the air, dancing, eyes closed, right beside another one that was peacefully smiling. Someone else was lightly jumping and turning around. A radiating couple was holding hands. Two young men were resting their heads on each other in a magnificently delicate demeanor. With the concert lights flashing on, it felt as if I was able to see silhouettes gently appearing to give life to a new shape of breathing halos before disappearing. It was all in front of me. What was I missing that wasn’t dazzlingly alive right before my eyes? What was I so afraid of to refrain from my longing desire to abandon myself to the moment? Past failures have a strong grip on my soul, so does my lack of confidence in what only the heart can clearly perceive and therefore be disposed to experience. In the end, it is about taking a leap of faith in what I can’t totally comprehend or, like I have done on so many occasions, crawling away from what was a blazing instant. And just like that, witnessing life illuminating the whole theatre through every single person freely letting go into a liberating sway, my panic left the place to a sentiment of sacred awe. I was standing in the middle of something way greater than I was, which was exactly what I was meditating about sitting on a terrace only a few hours ago. I was not only so close to remaining blind to the grandiosity of the inner spectacle flourishing all around, but I realized how my insecurities almost ruined what is the most precious vibe of all… I felt a warm feeling of exaltation all over my body, and suddenly, the nightmare I feared was nothing more than the one I kept carrying with me everywhere I go, every time I set my feet somewhere. People’s bright lights were just too stunning to deny their emancipative cleansing effect on my troubled spirit. Life creates life.
That sensational exhilaration growing from that rejuvenating acceptance of my self-inflected distrust and the mesmerizing grandiosity of the collective jubilation taking place amongst us all turned the concert into a blissful communal ceremony. Sounds became clamors, words turned into mantras. I don’t remember every detail, which usually means I was a candescent element being part of a larger beam of illumination. I was completely absorbed and immersed by that transformative wave I found myself in while losing it. I have memory flashes of me jumping in the crowd, walking on top of the theatre seats to greet people, and hugging strangers who became family over the course of a 90-minute sonic gathering transcendence. I gently whispered “thank you” to many people, but have been whispered back with too many forms of “I love you” to fully understand how pure of an inspiring connection we now had between one another. I don’t have any other way to describe what happened than the word “agape”, the definition of which varies from having a spiritual love feast to a profound state of wonders.
I had the blessing to share with many people once the musical elements of the moment we had communed left place to “us”. Different by essence, but somehow part of the same glow by nature, the conversations, even if brief, were rich in humanity and generous in empowerment. We hugged again, laughed, smiled, and hugged some more. Nobody wanted that marvel of an emotional shiver to come to an end, even though we knew we weren’t leaving quite the same as who we were when the sounds initially started to envelop the theatre almost 2 hours prior. It was incredibly moving for me, humbling as well. It’s difficult to explain why — which is why I know that what had been lived and communed was real, honest, transformative. I left the theatre in a contemplative serenity, grateful knowing that what had happened tonight, while unique, would immensely define the rest of the tour. It would be the foundation of what we were about to discover through highs and lows; genuine ones.
That was my personal experience at the Wave-Gotik-Treffen. I started the day wearing a hidden costume of my own and left feeling free to simply be myself, whatever it may mean to others, however scary it could be to me. More than anything, I promised I’d be back in Leipzig… And knowing how impacting the festival and its people have been for me, I will be back, as something vibrantly intimate keeps on shining for me, and so many others, here…
-Alex Henry Foster
MARCUS RIETZSCH
27 septembre 2022
“Alright guys, showtime!” resonates like a gong of reality. The march towards the stage represents a solemn motion for me, every step adding to the rhythmic mantra I’m projecting the universe with, like a whispering prayer through which I prepare my incredulous eyes to see. I take my guitar. Everyone gets on stage. And here we are. I’ve learned to begin with a long instrumental song in order to relax the tension and uprightness in my muscles, the pressure in my throat. For the occasion, I determined the instrumental moment titled Ouverture would be on top of the setlist, setting the tone of the musical journey ahead. Introspective and intense, dreamy and cathartic, it’s a song I particularly like to play on the guitar as it relies on multiple layers of feedbacks. It’s delicate in a very abrasive way. As I tell myself just how amazing it sounds, how serene I am, my guitar stops working, and my pedal board lit up like a Christmas tree on December 24th. I freaked out inside and immediately lost it, reminding myself of every time it happened in the past, self-fiasco if there is. I instantly imagined everything collapsing, live, in front of so many people. I hardly breathed, clearly having a panic attack as I have experienced so many times in the past. And when it happens, I kind of blacked out, which usually leads to forgetting my lyrics and parts of the songs, to over-compensate by screaming instead of singing, to do frantic things like climbing to the second-level balcony and jump backwards into the crowd… It has a great entertaining effect, but a disastrous soulful appeal. And once I lose it, it’s a downward spiral from then on. I knew it. The band members knew it, too.
Trying to find my emotional footing back, I slowly went to my microphone in order to start Slow Pace of the Winds. I felt out of breath, hesitant, and paralyzed, so I decided to take a little more time before shouting the first words. And while I didn’t want to look at the audience — I’m always a little intimated to look at people at the beginning of a concert — I never want to force any self-absorbed affective cadence to a moment that will generate its own motion if left to bloom on its own. But in what turned out to be some kind of blessed offering to me as I was trying to find my way back into the now, I noticed a woman with her arms in the air, dancing, eyes closed, right beside another one that was peacefully smiling. Someone else was lightly jumping and turning around. A radiating couple was holding hands. Two young men were resting their heads on each other in a magnificently delicate demeanor. With the concert lights flashing on, it felt as if I was able to see silhouettes gently appearing to give life to a new shape of breathing halos before disappearing. It was all in front of me. What was I missing that wasn’t dazzlingly alive right before my eyes? What was I so afraid of to refrain from my longing desire to abandon myself to the moment? Past failures have a strong grip on my soul, so does my lack of confidence in what only the heart can clearly perceive and therefore be disposed to experience. In the end, it is about taking a leap of faith in what I can’t totally comprehend or, like I have done on so many occasions, crawling away from what was a blazing instant. And just like that, witnessing life illuminating the whole theatre through every single person freely letting go into a liberating sway, my panic left the place to a sentiment of sacred awe. I was standing in the middle of something way greater than I was, which was exactly what I was meditating about sitting on a terrace only a few hours ago. I was not only so close to remaining blind to the grandiosity of the inner spectacle flourishing all around, but I realized how my insecurities almost ruined what is the most precious vibe of all… I felt a warm feeling of exaltation all over my body, and suddenly, the nightmare I feared was nothing more than the one I kept carrying with me everywhere I go, every time I set my feet somewhere. People’s bright lights were just too stunning to deny their emancipative cleansing effect on my troubled spirit. Life creates life.
That sensational exhilaration growing from that rejuvenating acceptance of my self-inflected distrust and the mesmerizing grandiosity of the collective jubilation taking place amongst us all turned the concert into a blissful communal ceremony. Sounds became clamors, words turned into mantras. I don’t remember every detail, which usually means I was a candescent element being part of a larger beam of illumination. I was completely absorbed and immersed by that transformative wave I found myself in while losing it. I have memory flashes of me jumping in the crowd, walking on top of the theatre seats to greet people, and hugging strangers who became family over the course of a 90-minute sonic gathering transcendence. I gently whispered “thank you” to many people, but have been whispered back with too many forms of “I love you” to fully understand how pure of an inspiring connection we now had between one another. I don’t have any other way to describe what happened than the word “agape”, the definition of which varies from having a spiritual love feast to a profound state of wonders.
I had the blessing to share with many people once the musical elements of the moment we had communed left place to “us”. Different by essence, but somehow part of the same glow by nature, the conversations, even if brief, were rich in humanity and generous in empowerment. We hugged again, laughed, smiled, and hugged some more. Nobody wanted that marvel of an emotional shiver to come to an end, even though we knew we weren’t leaving quite the same as who we were when the sounds initially started to envelop the theatre almost 2 hours prior. It was incredibly moving for me, humbling as well. It’s difficult to explain why — which is why I know that what had been lived and communed was real, honest, transformative. I left the theatre in a contemplative serenity, grateful knowing that what had happened tonight, while unique, would immensely define the rest of the tour. It would be the foundation of what we were about to discover through highs and lows; genuine ones.
That was my personal experience at the Wave-Gotik-Treffen. I started the day wearing a hidden costume of my own and left feeling free to simply be myself, whatever it may mean to others, however scary it could be to me. More than anything, I promised I’d be back in Leipzig… And knowing how impacting the festival and its people have been for me, I will be back, as something vibrantly intimate keeps on shining for me, and so many others, here…
-Alex Henry Foster
MARCUS RIETZSCH
27 septembre 2022
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