September 2007 Archives
The music haunts me everywhere I go. It's a vaguely Latin beat, an alternating pounding of bass and drums, a boom-chik-chik-buh-chik repetitive pattern of droning madness, and it never seems to have any lyrics. I hear it drive into the Coors Park at all hours of the night. I hear it driving down Lee Highway, but never on the radio. And today at the Nationals game, Jesus Flores had something similar as one of his at-bat music clips. Now I'm wondering: where can you find out what each player used as his music, and will this finally settle the mystery once and for all? Or will the magnitude of the knowledge simply cause me to go completely insane? CAN I HANDLE THE TRUTH?
By September 6, I had seen Dave Matthews Band live in some form or fashion seventeen times, in six different states. But this isn't a story about my fandom with a band. By September 6, I had been to Lane Stadium dozens of times over the course of the last seven years, with the seats filled with large crowds of students and alumni cheering on the Hokies. But this isn't a story about football. By September 6, I had even been on Worsham Field twice, for my own graduation and for a post-game celebration. But this isn't a story about joining that elite club who has walked on one of the most revered fields in Virginia sports.
On September 6, four acts joined the Hokie Nation in Lane Stadium for a five-and-a-half-hour concert. It was billed as another event to promote healing and the living of life to its fullest. The stage, constructed over the previous week, was huge, towering above the HokieVision and making the largest stadium in Virginia feel a little more like a living room. The crowd was loud. Maybe not as thunderous as during a third down play on an autumn Saturday afternoon, but the students, faculty, staff, and alumni who were crowded from the East Stands to the West were still boisterous, happy, and apt to pick up a "Let's Go Hokies!" cheer at the first sign of an on-stage break.
You see, once more, we were all together, in much the same way that we showed resilience and unity in the direct aftermath of April 16. The same students that couldn't be baited to say something negative about the school during the media swarm were there, clapping and cheering and singing along. The faculty who continue to stand behind President Steger were there. That unbreakable Hokie spirit was everywhere. The artists felt it, too: John Mayer said "this is how the world should be all the time," Phil Vassar elicited cheers by bringing Coach Beamer to the stage, and even the semi-controversial Nas sent heartfelt messages of love out to all of us. And then there was Dave Matthews, who reached a level of onstage joyousness and gratitude unparalleled in my 17 previous shows, matching the generosity he first showed by proposing and organizing this concert.
I don't know how many of the audience were diehard DMB fans coming into the night, but we certainly were treated to one of the best and most energetic sets by the band that I have ever seen. The treat wasn't even seeing the historic crossovers between John Mayer's band and DMB; it was in the fabric of the show itself. The band members carefully chose their songs for maximum effect. While each DMB show is unique, there are still a number of songs in the band's repertoire that might not have been appropriate in the setting. They passed over all of those, opting for uplifting, joyous, or soul-searching numbers, up to and including an impromptu stadium singalong breakdown of Bob Marley's "Three Little Birds." For those five-and-a-half hours, the artists who so graciously donated their time and performances strived to tell us that every little thing was going to be all right.
Somewhere in the middle of the evening, after DMB took the stage and were rollicking through a chorus of "Two Step," something made me look a row ahead and to my right. A college-aged couple stood there, buffered by empty seats to the left and right of them, alone but embracing each other tightly. The girl had her head buried into her friend's shoulder, who was bravely facing the stage with tear-rimmed eyes. Indeed, "Two Step" can be a powerful performance live, but I could tell there was a deeper meaning behind their reaction. I thought back to the Drillfield memorials, the sandwich boards, the tributes jotted by passersby striving for meaning, for connection through a few words written in marker. I thought back to a few messages I'd read laid at the foot of one of the 32 Hokie stones in front of Burruss, particularly the ones from friends missing the sounds of their lost friend's guitar playing - perhaps another guy just having fun playing Dave songs. I turned back to the stage with a deeper appreciation for what I was seeing.
The couple left shortly after I saw them; I can't say when. But at once, I wanted to drink in every beat and every note remaining in the night. For them, for the families, and for the lost - celebrating life that is so short but so sweet. Celebrating the strength that we can all find in each other. Celebrating the simple fact that we are Virginia Tech.
Go Hokies.