Learning to dance in the rain
Photo by Austin Sorette
My in-laws have a wooden sign on the wall in their living room that reads, "Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass; it's about learning to dance in the rain." Every time I see it, my eyes instinctively roll, and I think about my own philosophical phrase, "How can hell be any worse?"
Last Wednesday, Sept. 9, Thompson's Point hosted the legendary LCD Soundsystem, with New York City up-and-coming act Victoryland as the opener. It was a must-see show, even though I knew little more than their hits. As it turns out, those bands in your musical Rolodex are perfect acts to see live.
The best concert experiences aren't ones where you see your favorite bands play the songs you like over and over again. Nor is it going to support someone who's dying to go see an artist you don't particularly care for. Concerts are the most special when you're vaguely familiar with the band — you know just enough about them to hope they play the two or three songs you're familiar with. That adds stakes to the live performance, because it could contextualize how you hear their studio recordings in the car or in your headphones.
The only thing that can really rain on that parade is... well, the rain.
When the forecast gets gloomy, so does the motivation to see a band you don't care for. But unless the Earth splits open and demons fly out to congest the Portland International Jetport airspace, Thompson's Point — a solely outdoor venue — has a strict "the show must go on" policy. Weather be damned.
Thompson's Point is beautiful. The massive stage towers over a little peninsula surrounded by the Fore River. In the sunshine, it is the best place to see live music. But as the cloud cover darkened during Victoryland's set, dozens of people fled the grassy dance floor to take shelter under the open-air steel pavilion. However, that strategy may have backfired; the light, albeit consistent, rain fell on the venue grounds, while the roof poured streams onto the edges of the concrete pavilion floor.
Even James Murphy, the singer and mastermind behind LCD Soundsystem, craned his neck around the stage roof to gauge the severity of the weather.
"This definitely feels like a class-system divide right now," Murphy said to the audience, becoming soaked to the bone. Coming from a band born out of Brooklyn before it became a hipster haven, the irony dripped along with the rain
But then, the band forged on into their unique brand of dance-punk. Funky lights and a giant disco ball glittered on stage, reiterating the theatrical charm that LCD Soundsystem earned. Suddenly, those who had taken cover under the pavilion were filing out onto the lawn to start dancing.
It's easy to be a grouch about the weather. It's easy to think weather is a modern convenience, and if it's bad, refunds must be distributed post-haste. But those standing in the ever-pooling puddles under the steel roof watched with jealousy at the braver concert-goers dancing and singing as casually as if they were watching the band in the shower.
It's also very likely that a lot of these fans weren't die-hards, hell-bent on seeing the band even if demons from under the Earth plagued the skies. Surely, some of them recognized that the state we live in — the one we love — gets a little wet sometimes. Storms do pass. But what could be more Maine than dancing in the rain?