Alice in Chains

I've written a lot about Alice in Chains on this blog and on Twitter and Facebook. I had looked forward to seeing and hearing them live on March 20 in Chicago. I had looked forward with more anticipation to hearing them than almost any other musical event I've ever attended in my life; a life FILLED with musical experiences and performances, some of them historic and epic. Eva Marton's American debut at the Metropolitan Opera. The world premiere of Leonard Bernstein's new opera, A Quiet Place, at The Kennedy Center, with Mr. and Mrs. Reagan in attendance. Herbert Von Karajan with the Berlin Philharmonic performing all Four Brahms Symphonies at Carnegie Hall. Arther Rubenstein's farewell concert at Carnegie Hall, playing both Brahms Piano Concertos. In one evening. The Wagner Ring Operas at Lyric Opera of Chicago a few years ago. U2 at Soldier Field in Sept. 2009. Luciano Pavarotti's American debut as Rodolfo in La Boheme at the Met. And the list goes on and on. Nonetheless, the physical and emotional excitement I built up to the Alice in Chains concert was other-worldly and far exceeded any of the previous concert experiences, in terms of sheer excitement and anticipation.

I wonder at myself. It's true I love Alice in Chains's music and that love has not wavered since I first heard them on the Black Gives Way to Blue Album back in October of 2009. Although now other bands and musicians have come along and have become much loved and admired, Alice in Chains remains in a category uniquely their own.

I decided to stand in the mosh pit for Alice in Chains. That was probably my first mistake. A metal-head crowd is a VERY different animal than the crowds at U2 or KISS or Led Zeppelin 2 or, good heavens, Yes. I worked my way to the front and was in the second row back from the barrier. Facing the very center of the stage. I used 2 canes to help me stand for hours. To preserve some sort of strength in my back and legs. I am a woman who doesn't stand around. Nonetheless, I arrived at the Aragon Ballroom (or "Brawlroom" as it is somewhat wryly called) at 7:40 and I stood on my feet until nearly 10. For me, that is quite a record.

The opening band only played for 30 minutes and I tolerated them. Alice came on at 9 sharp. I was not disappointed really. They sound very much the same as they do on their CDs. And it was truly thrilling to see them up so close. They have the sweetest faces, all four of them. I mean, they might be bastards in real life but they LOOK and SOUND like angels of a sort. Jerry is particularly gentle looking although I've heard he has a razor sharp, rather dry wit. Will is just beautiful. He seems innocent in a way I find hard to define. Totally un-debauched or marked by excessive drinking or drugs or whatever. Mike Inez resembles paintings from the 17th century court of Louis XIV. Sean is earnest and rather funny. They have all retained a somewhat boyish look. Which accords oddly with the dark, intense and sombre lyrics of many of the songs, particularly those by Layne and Jerry.

I got badly jostled and it was mind-numbingly loud in the pit. The young men around me JUMPED so vigorously to the beat and shouted and screamed out the songs so loudly that at one point, my ear felt like the drum had actually popped. It was very hot and sweaty too and smelly. Someone was smoking pot somewhere nearby. I now know what it felt like to be packed, standing up, in those cattle cars that took Jews to Auschwitz. Not enough room to move and smelly and somewhat frenzied. So I stood it for 4 songs and then elbowed, clawed, and "beg your pardon"-ed my way to the back of the hall where I gasped for the cool air coming from the outside. I also got a drink and -- lost my BlackBerry! I had been tweeting my darling while watching Alice. Telling him about every little move on stage and each song and he was so sweet and funny and told me if anyone fucked with me to let him know and he'd HURT someone.

Never. Not ever, not once in my life has a man ever offered to do that for me. Not that I've wanted him to. But M. makes me feel so cherished and cared for. I've never really been "taken care of" like that. I long for it, like a powerful opiate or narcotic. I yearn to just be his woman. I am frankly besotted. My longing for him and Alice in Chains and losing my BlackBerry -- which meant I could not message M. for the rest of the night and -- as I feared -- could not sleep all night worrying about me in that crowd, alone, up in Chicago. I cried myself to sleep that night in the hotel, knowing that M. must be a) hurt that I stopped talking with him; or b) seriously worried that some accident or other mishap had befallen me. It was a night of really amazing emotional trauma for me in many ways. And the background music for this particular movie is the song Rooster and Again and No Excuses by Alice in Chains. And Private Hell -- which was how I felt when I finally got back to my hotel room.

There were other incidents that day. Some more traumatic than others. But in all, it is a day I will not forget in a hurry. To my dying day.

My therapist once told me: you've never been really touched, Glenda. Your emotions are locked away in a place where you can take them out and use them or not, at will. Well -- that has ended. Rock music once and for all has been the key to unlocking, unleashing emotions so powerful I didn't know I was capable of them. It changes everything. The way I see other people, the way I see events and most especially, the way I see relationships in all their ramifications, ups, downs, falsehoods, and transcendent joy. I've told Ben I want to read The Brothers Karamazov. I want to read really fine literature with my newfound compassion for the plights of the characters as they struggle for understanding and enlightenment through their human interactions. Meanwhile: I stumble on toward some kind of light, some kind of deeper realization of my own power as a woman and as a human being. Accepting and even loving my human frailty and thereby that of others, those I love--M. the man I love.