Efficiency
Last night I feared we would tilt the Earth, dislodging it from its orbit - something which could have resulted in a longer year, a hotter summer, or anything else scientifically possible in this case. So was the gravity of our actions. Summer Jamband, designed and produced by Rob and Crystal, was to play at the Lightning Bolt show in Philadelphia. Two months ago Lightning Bolt played to a dangerously packed house in southern Philadelphia, performing flawlessly and accurately. The crowd was excited and performed superhuman acrobatics from the rafters. At this point in my development as an unbiased historian I preferred to capture sound, not light, and because of this I have the show on a mini-disc somewhere among my collection of possessions. Lightning Bolt's return to Philadelphia two months later was no mistake, and we hoped, as I am sure they did, that something similar would happen.
Rob and Crystal used their clout to get 40 people in for free. We were all dressed appropriately: I wore nothing more than a scrap of cloth covering my privates, which was more than most of my freeloading peers. We were floating on the feeling of importance, since we had been granted free admission to a Lightning Bolt show, the Holy of Holies. We 40 southern Philadelphians were naked, ecstatic, and ready to repay our gracious hosts in any way possible. I tore tape for Crystal, gave her medicine to combat the butterflies in her stomach, and helped carry 500 lb. amplifiers into the performance space. These heroic deeds pale in comparison to those of the others, who were, at times, embarrassingly eager to lend a hand.
By the time we all arrived, the art-works, posters, suitcases full of tye-dyed underwear, T-shirts, and DearRaindrop books, all originating from the South Philadelphia Athenaeum, had taken over a large section of the First Unitarian Church basement.
(Jen and Chris, respectively)
Our numbers continued to grow. The first band began to play, donned in animal masks. A feeble attempt at invoking Dionysus, who lay in wait nearby. As the band ended, the air electrified; and we residents, 40 strong, burned with anticipation. It was our moment to shine, to show Philadelphia (and New Jersey) the power of our combined power when finely focused. As Rob sent the first sounds into the mass, those dressed as beach-goers leapt joyfully into the air. We stayed there for 26 minutes, pausing occasionally to slide across the floor on our bellies, using our sweat as lubrication for the impromptu slip-and-slide.
(A 20-foot slide)
Our excitement was infectious, and even the 2-girl Japanese noise-rock band rejoiced. A ring of spectators formed around us, shocked and drawn to the spectacle, rubber-necking like blood-thirsty motorists. Something had gone terribly wrong!
When the band ended, the show ended. I doubt there's been a worse Lightning Bolt show in the last 3 years. The temperature was over 100 degrees Fahrenheit, half of the audience was drinking water outside, and the drummer left for 15 minutes. Someone remarked, "I thought they were practicing." Simply put, there was no energy left.
Afterwards, we lay in wait outside, pointing the sweaty refugees toward the Logan's Square fountain. Technically, this fountain is part of the city's public pool system, freeing us from the burden of illegality while pursuing happiness. The plan had been set in motion a week earlier - harness the gravity of Lightning Bolt to perform our own experiments. Offer Logan's Fountain to the heat-exhausted, the dehydrated and the confused; creating a critical mass in the center of Philadelphia. It remains to be seen if the mass reached was enough to set a chain reaction into motion.
(Early in the night. I await photos of the end result.)
Rob and Crystal used their clout to get 40 people in for free. We were all dressed appropriately: I wore nothing more than a scrap of cloth covering my privates, which was more than most of my freeloading peers. We were floating on the feeling of importance, since we had been granted free admission to a Lightning Bolt show, the Holy of Holies. We 40 southern Philadelphians were naked, ecstatic, and ready to repay our gracious hosts in any way possible. I tore tape for Crystal, gave her medicine to combat the butterflies in her stomach, and helped carry 500 lb. amplifiers into the performance space. These heroic deeds pale in comparison to those of the others, who were, at times, embarrassingly eager to lend a hand.
By the time we all arrived, the art-works, posters, suitcases full of tye-dyed underwear, T-shirts, and DearRaindrop books, all originating from the South Philadelphia Athenaeum, had taken over a large section of the First Unitarian Church basement.
(Jen and Chris, respectively)
Our numbers continued to grow. The first band began to play, donned in animal masks. A feeble attempt at invoking Dionysus, who lay in wait nearby. As the band ended, the air electrified; and we residents, 40 strong, burned with anticipation. It was our moment to shine, to show Philadelphia (and New Jersey) the power of our combined power when finely focused. As Rob sent the first sounds into the mass, those dressed as beach-goers leapt joyfully into the air. We stayed there for 26 minutes, pausing occasionally to slide across the floor on our bellies, using our sweat as lubrication for the impromptu slip-and-slide.
(A 20-foot slide)
Our excitement was infectious, and even the 2-girl Japanese noise-rock band rejoiced. A ring of spectators formed around us, shocked and drawn to the spectacle, rubber-necking like blood-thirsty motorists. Something had gone terribly wrong!
When the band ended, the show ended. I doubt there's been a worse Lightning Bolt show in the last 3 years. The temperature was over 100 degrees Fahrenheit, half of the audience was drinking water outside, and the drummer left for 15 minutes. Someone remarked, "I thought they were practicing." Simply put, there was no energy left.
Afterwards, we lay in wait outside, pointing the sweaty refugees toward the Logan's Square fountain. Technically, this fountain is part of the city's public pool system, freeing us from the burden of illegality while pursuing happiness. The plan had been set in motion a week earlier - harness the gravity of Lightning Bolt to perform our own experiments. Offer Logan's Fountain to the heat-exhausted, the dehydrated and the confused; creating a critical mass in the center of Philadelphia. It remains to be seen if the mass reached was enough to set a chain reaction into motion.
(Early in the night. I await photos of the end result.)