The best night this year... maybe the best night of next year as well... oh heck, make it the decade
Yesterday evening marked the fulfilment of a ten-year dream, and one that I never thought would happen - Steve and I finally saw Peter Gabriel in concert. After ten years of listening to his songs every other day, we finally got to hear it live. And I am still absolutely blown away.
Last weekend some medical friends of Steve’s came to visit us in Oxford, and just happened to mention that they were going to WOMAD (World of Music and Dance) in Bath the next weekend, and that Peter Gabriel was playing. Steve and I clutched each other and shrieked (well he clutched and I shrieked), and ran home to book tickets. We are unbelievably lucky, because Gabriel hadn’t planned any UK/Europe concert dates this year. He only played because he was trying to raise money for charity Witness, a program that supports people filming human rights abuses and distributes the footage to bring pressure to bear on governments. He’d been looking for a venue to do one show to raise money, and was offered the Saturday night by WOMAD.
WOMAD was pretty cool, we got there at 12am and PG was at 9:30pm. We wandered around the beautiful outdoor venue, eating churros with chocolate and watching the hippies dancing and singing and generally having a great time.
It was the most civilised music festival I’ve ever been to, with heaps of families with kids, lots of older people and plenty in between. (Although the dress code was clearly ‘underwear optional’.) The weather was stunningly beautiful, with one hour of driving rain at sunset then a clear blue night to follow.
So at 8pm we made our way to the main stage to wait for PG, and for the whole hour and a half we waited, I still couldn’t believe it was actually going to happen, that he would actually be there. The crowd was wonderfully polite, no shoving or drunkenness, just chat and laughter. At one point I looked up and there was a small fire balloon, like the ones kids make, floating high above us. Someone on the outskirts of the festival was making them and sending them up, and there were all these little tiny spots of fire floating up and up while we waited.
Eventually dusk fell and the stars came out, and the people gathered, then there he was. We had an amazing view, and were only about ten people back from the stage. He started by saying that he was going to play a couple of covers, something he’d never done before, but was collaborating with a few artists to play their music if they’d play his. So first he sang, acoustically, ‘Boy in the Bubble’ by Paul Simon. You could have heard a pin drop. Halfway through, someone on the outer edge of the crowd began creating bubbles (there was a bubble stand at the festival), and one huge iridescent bubble (a couple of feet in diameter) floated over the heads of the crowd right up the front, and for a moment every eye followed this beautiful prismatic thing and everyone gasped. It was totally spontaneous, and it was clear the organisers hadn’t planned it.
I’d been sort of disappointed that he hadn’t started with one of his classics, and didn’t really want to hear covers, amazing though the first one was. Then he said he was going to play one called ‘Book of Love’ and I took it all back - it’s one of my favourite of his songs, and I didn’t know it was a cover. The violins started up and my eyes filled with tears - I couldn’t believe it was actually happening, that I was really going to hear this song live. For a moment I was absolutely and totally present in the moment, not thinking about anything else, just alone with the dark sky and Steve and the quiet crowd and the violins and Gabriel’s sublime voice. I was so happy I thought I might burst.
Then he played ‘Darkness’, a rough, jagged song about fear. It’s never been one of my favourites, but still, hearing it was amazing. And then he played the one song I’d have chosen if allowed but hadn’t dared to hope for - ‘Come Talk to Me’. Here’s 60 seconds of the end (that's his daughter he's singing with).
I was practically delirious with joy, but then it just kept on coming. ‘Steam’ was next, complete with giant green jets of steam that he walked through while singing...
Then ‘Solsbury Hill’, and then everything went dark and two great eyes glowed on the screen as he sang ‘San Jacinto’.
At the end, with the chorus ‘hold the line’, a beam of white light shot up from the stage. He slowly picked up a small mirror, and bent the light into a searchlight which he played over the thousands of people. It was so effective and so thoughtful that shivers went up and down me.
I think that the best moment of all though was when he sat down to play and by the opening bars I knew it was Steve’s favourite song, one that means a lot to him and that I know he never ever thought he’d hear live. I spun round and gasped, “Steve, he’s going to play ‘Washing of the Water’!”
Steve looked shocked, and next time I looked back at him he had his eyes closed and was gripping my shoulder so hard it hurt. As the song unfolded I looked up, and there were more fire-balloons golden in the dark sky, pouring up from the distance and floating away to the west of us. Some huge bubbles wafted across the front of the stage, and for a split second in one I saw the whole stage, pinpoint-clear and flipped upside down, the stage lights flickering on its surface. It was, simply, perfection.
Then it got more perfect with ‘Red Rain’...
... and ‘Games Without Frontiers’, ‘Downside Up’, ‘Big Time’, and ‘Biko’ as an encore. At the end Steve and I were so drained and hyper and excited and emotional that I felt like I could have slept for a week. I kept wanting to cry and trying not to! It’s really hard to explain why it was such an amazing experience - I mean, it’s just music after all. The thing is that much of it is music that means something - ‘Biko’ is about apartheid, ‘San Jacinto’ about American Indian displacement, ‘Games Without Frontiers’ about war, ‘Big Time’ about materialism, and so on. It’s not just mindless noise to give you a good feeling (which music should do, of course), it makes you think.
But it’s also music that is woven into the very fabric of our lives. Steve first gave me the album So to listen to in 1996, when he was trying to woo me a bit, we listened to Secret World Live all the time through our three years of going out, and I walked down the aisle to ‘In Your Eyes’ when we got married in 2002. It felt like the last ten years were unfolding before us in one night. It was also very special because Steve and I don’t have any obsessions in common (apart from each other!) - he’s obsessed with music and I’m obsessed with CS Lewis and books and painting. Those interests never really intersect, but last night we were completely equal in the obsession stakes! I wouldn’t have wanted to be there with anyone else, and it’s an experience we’ll never forget.
Last weekend some medical friends of Steve’s came to visit us in Oxford, and just happened to mention that they were going to WOMAD (World of Music and Dance) in Bath the next weekend, and that Peter Gabriel was playing. Steve and I clutched each other and shrieked (well he clutched and I shrieked), and ran home to book tickets. We are unbelievably lucky, because Gabriel hadn’t planned any UK/Europe concert dates this year. He only played because he was trying to raise money for charity Witness, a program that supports people filming human rights abuses and distributes the footage to bring pressure to bear on governments. He’d been looking for a venue to do one show to raise money, and was offered the Saturday night by WOMAD.
WOMAD was pretty cool, we got there at 12am and PG was at 9:30pm. We wandered around the beautiful outdoor venue, eating churros with chocolate and watching the hippies dancing and singing and generally having a great time.
It was the most civilised music festival I’ve ever been to, with heaps of families with kids, lots of older people and plenty in between. (Although the dress code was clearly ‘underwear optional’.) The weather was stunningly beautiful, with one hour of driving rain at sunset then a clear blue night to follow.
So at 8pm we made our way to the main stage to wait for PG, and for the whole hour and a half we waited, I still couldn’t believe it was actually going to happen, that he would actually be there. The crowd was wonderfully polite, no shoving or drunkenness, just chat and laughter. At one point I looked up and there was a small fire balloon, like the ones kids make, floating high above us. Someone on the outskirts of the festival was making them and sending them up, and there were all these little tiny spots of fire floating up and up while we waited.
Eventually dusk fell and the stars came out, and the people gathered, then there he was. We had an amazing view, and were only about ten people back from the stage. He started by saying that he was going to play a couple of covers, something he’d never done before, but was collaborating with a few artists to play their music if they’d play his. So first he sang, acoustically, ‘Boy in the Bubble’ by Paul Simon. You could have heard a pin drop. Halfway through, someone on the outer edge of the crowd began creating bubbles (there was a bubble stand at the festival), and one huge iridescent bubble (a couple of feet in diameter) floated over the heads of the crowd right up the front, and for a moment every eye followed this beautiful prismatic thing and everyone gasped. It was totally spontaneous, and it was clear the organisers hadn’t planned it.
I’d been sort of disappointed that he hadn’t started with one of his classics, and didn’t really want to hear covers, amazing though the first one was. Then he said he was going to play one called ‘Book of Love’ and I took it all back - it’s one of my favourite of his songs, and I didn’t know it was a cover. The violins started up and my eyes filled with tears - I couldn’t believe it was actually happening, that I was really going to hear this song live. For a moment I was absolutely and totally present in the moment, not thinking about anything else, just alone with the dark sky and Steve and the quiet crowd and the violins and Gabriel’s sublime voice. I was so happy I thought I might burst.
Then he played ‘Darkness’, a rough, jagged song about fear. It’s never been one of my favourites, but still, hearing it was amazing. And then he played the one song I’d have chosen if allowed but hadn’t dared to hope for - ‘Come Talk to Me’. Here’s 60 seconds of the end (that's his daughter he's singing with).
I was practically delirious with joy, but then it just kept on coming. ‘Steam’ was next, complete with giant green jets of steam that he walked through while singing...
Then ‘Solsbury Hill’, and then everything went dark and two great eyes glowed on the screen as he sang ‘San Jacinto’.
At the end, with the chorus ‘hold the line’, a beam of white light shot up from the stage. He slowly picked up a small mirror, and bent the light into a searchlight which he played over the thousands of people. It was so effective and so thoughtful that shivers went up and down me.
I think that the best moment of all though was when he sat down to play and by the opening bars I knew it was Steve’s favourite song, one that means a lot to him and that I know he never ever thought he’d hear live. I spun round and gasped, “Steve, he’s going to play ‘Washing of the Water’!”
Steve looked shocked, and next time I looked back at him he had his eyes closed and was gripping my shoulder so hard it hurt. As the song unfolded I looked up, and there were more fire-balloons golden in the dark sky, pouring up from the distance and floating away to the west of us. Some huge bubbles wafted across the front of the stage, and for a split second in one I saw the whole stage, pinpoint-clear and flipped upside down, the stage lights flickering on its surface. It was, simply, perfection.
Then it got more perfect with ‘Red Rain’...
... and ‘Games Without Frontiers’, ‘Downside Up’, ‘Big Time’, and ‘Biko’ as an encore. At the end Steve and I were so drained and hyper and excited and emotional that I felt like I could have slept for a week. I kept wanting to cry and trying not to! It’s really hard to explain why it was such an amazing experience - I mean, it’s just music after all. The thing is that much of it is music that means something - ‘Biko’ is about apartheid, ‘San Jacinto’ about American Indian displacement, ‘Games Without Frontiers’ about war, ‘Big Time’ about materialism, and so on. It’s not just mindless noise to give you a good feeling (which music should do, of course), it makes you think.
But it’s also music that is woven into the very fabric of our lives. Steve first gave me the album So to listen to in 1996, when he was trying to woo me a bit, we listened to Secret World Live all the time through our three years of going out, and I walked down the aisle to ‘In Your Eyes’ when we got married in 2002. It felt like the last ten years were unfolding before us in one night. It was also very special because Steve and I don’t have any obsessions in common (apart from each other!) - he’s obsessed with music and I’m obsessed with CS Lewis and books and painting. Those interests never really intersect, but last night we were completely equal in the obsession stakes! I wouldn’t have wanted to be there with anyone else, and it’s an experience we’ll never forget.