#or maybe i should just crash the mcdonalds outlet like 10 minutes away in the hopes of free wifi—

[deus-ex-mona]

lags ✨ahoy✨

[jmdrd]

The National - 10/12/2019 - Motorpoint Arena, Nottingham

This is the Nottingham story. This is when I decided I wanted to share my adventures with anyone who’s willing to give them a read. I am happy and grateful to talk about this one because it showed once again the power that music has to dissolve all separation in front of us.

It all began in September of 2019, as I was deciding on the first gigs that I would go to as my new London life began. I came upon The National’s announcement for their UK tour leg backing up their newest album I Am Easy To Find (2019). At this point, I’d seen them twice: December 2017 at the Civic Opera House in Chicago and in April 2019 at the Beacon Theatre in NYC. Twice had I flown to another country to see my favorite band. Twice I had been blown away. I smiled and thought, A third one does not seem far away. I noticed that the band did not plan on playing a London show during this leg. A few cities that I had never heard of were on the list, and then I noticed Brighton! Leo studies in Brighton, I’ll go to the gig and crash on his floor, a very simple plan. It started to look like I wasn’t going to need to travel an excruciating long distance to see the native clevenlanders. I didn’t buy my tickets then, it seemed too early to purchase them. I did not have the money yet plus, there were plenty tickets left and only a couple of dates were sold out. I knew I was going to be able to go. Brighton is not a big town, not a lot of people will go, I stupidly thought.

Months passed, winter term at Goldsmiths happened, and the last week of November was upon us all. This meant two things: Winter break and The National. To my surprise, all tickets for Brighton were sold out. Sadness started to crawl inside me, I was so excited to belt “Oblivions” alongside Matt Beringer, the Dessner twins and the Devendorf siblings. But it seemed like this was not going to happen, not in the next few days at least. “I have to see them,” I whispered under a big sigh. “Think of something, dude,” I told myself a few times. Then it came to me, travel a little further. I had done it before, why not cross city lines one more time to get to a gig? My research began, what city is the closest to London and has tickets for The National on the second week of December? The contenders were Leeds and Nottingham; Leeds I’d heard of, given that a friend is from there. Nottingham was a mystery, but it was quicker to get there. It was decided then, Nottingham it is! Planning for this gig was simple, but as I bought my train tickets I realized I had to get to a class on Wednesday after the Tuesday night gig. I can get from London to Nottingham, vise versa, in an hour and a half. So I’ll make it to my class. The only problem was that the last train to London left at 11:15 PM and there was no way I was making it if I wanted to stay for the whole show. The only solution to this was taking the first train scheduled at 5:00 AM on Wednesday morning. Which gave me sufficient time to get to my last radio class at 9:00 AM.

Weirdly, the week before the show transport decided to be my enemy. A flight I had a weekend prior to it was cancelled, a few Underground rides went longer than expected, and the train on my way to Nottingham broke-down. I found myself stranded in the middle of yet another unknown place: Leicester. As I stood in the cold-rainy platform I called my mom to let her know what was going on (for obvious purposes this conversation has been roughly translated from Spanish). 

-“Hey! I’m stranded in Leicester. I don’t think I’ll be able to make it to the show, the train stopped working and it is not going to let any other trains through.”

-“What?! No way, I can’t believe it!” She said sadly.

-“Yup, I’m going to ask around to see if I can figure something out. Maybe I can take a bus to Nottingham.” I scratched my head a bit and let out a big sigh.

-“Okay, please let me know! You’ll make it, I know you will.” With a soft tone she calmed me down.

-“Will do, ¡te quiero mucho!” I quickly replied.

-“¡Yo también!”

I hung up and started walking towards a lady wearing a bright yellow vest. She was telling some other people that the train we were on was not going to move in a while. She had no idea what we could do, or how we could get to where we were going. Google Maps said I could take a bus that was leaving in ten minutes, but walking to the stop was going to take me fifteen. I thought about running, but noticed that another train bound to Nottingham was going to arrive in twenty minutes on a different platform. I asked a staff worker if that was real, and as he smiled he said “I believe so, it is supposed to get here soon!” Once more, everything was going to be alright. I wasn’t going to be in the front row anymore, nevertheless, I was going to be inside the Motorpoint Arena. 

As I chewed on a Reese’s peanut butter chocolate and caramel crunchy-bar, the train arrived. “This is it!” I thought. One trouble less for the rest of the ride. I forgot to mention this earlier, but I had an important theory essay due on Thursday morning. Because my radio class goes on until late in the afternoon I was not going to have much time to write after it if I wanted to sleep. I decided to get working on it on my way to this midland city; I had a good flow going on in the first train, but the mechanical failure threw me off. I decided to wait until after the show to worry about this. Very simple decision because I was going to have to wait for around six hours for the train back home. 

Fast forward a little, I’m inside the arena a few feet from the stage (I was standing in the sixth row). Chatter filled the room as I stood wearing a black hat, some rain-wet jeans and a blue Miller Lite t-shirt as I held on to a poster and my backpack. Unknown faces all around me were excitedly talking about their expectations for the show. I was ready and could not wait any longer; I felt happy I had to travel once more to see my favorite band.

The lights dimmed and a bright pink dressed Jenny Lewis came into the stage to deliver a mellow and solid performance. The guitar solos were rich, her voice was soothing and hypnotizing, the percussion simple and crisp. Smoke and dust danced around to a purple background as I rhythmically moved my head side to side. What a nice warmup, I thought as Lewis and her band walked off stage. Now, the longest part of the night came: the half hour were the roadies set up everything to perfection. A few scattered shouts (mined included) echoed in the arena as a guitar chord was struck to make sure it was on tune. Lights dimmed once more, I smiled. I could not stop smiling. The band began playing “Rylan”, one of the new tracks. A loud snare drum performed by a flawless Bryan Devendorf backed Matt’s baritone voice as it was being whispered into the microphone: “Rylan you should try and get some sun / You remind me of everyone.” The melancholic lyrics that have been crafted to adorn the experimental rock sound don’t seem so sad anymore. A warm nostalgia filled up the room. Once again, I’m sure that any trouble is worth this. Suddenly, I froze as Matt pointed at me asking if I had been at the Nottingham gig a couple of years ago. I was not able to speak, I didn’t know how to tell him it wasn’t me. “Come on, raise your hand! It is you,” he chuckled as “Day I Die” started playing. I couldn’t believe I had half an interaction with the person who’s written the songs that have soundtracked my life for the past four years. I thought it was funny how he confused me given the fact that I had only been in the country for three months. The show continued and the first song I ever heard by them began: “Fake Empire”. A rich piano played by Aaron Dessner sounded at the top of the first words, “stay out super late tonight / picking apples, making pie”, and a few seconds later the snare once again covering the noise of a faint guitar riff being played by Bryce Dessner. As Scott Devendor jammed through the baseline the signature trumpets started vibrating through the monitors. Absolute chaos and then silence. A roar of claps came in a few seconds after. “Woooo! Yes, yes yes!” I yelled. “Thank you,” Matt whispered as the rest of the band made hand signals. It was time for the fake exit before the encore. The night ended with an unplugged version of “Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks” on a white-lighted stage. After tears were shed, yelling performed and lyrics recited, I proudly messed up the choir to the last song in the exact moment when everyone went quiet. I laughed along with a few other strangers. No better way to end a night. 

The hours before my train arrived were mostly spent in a loud McDonald’s filled with drunk students as I wrote my essay. In the attempt of finding a quieter place to write at two in the morning I decided to venture out into the windy streets. I decided to walk towards the train station, but after a few minutes of going in the wrong direction my phone died. I was officially lost. I tried finding my way back to McDonald’s without success until I found a local guy walking quickly with his headphones on. I asked him where the train station was and he pointed to the left. I walked for a little bit more and made it. Yes, I made it to a cold empty building with no tables and no power outlets. Off I went again looking for my oasis; luckily, Christmas was near and a huge adorned tree sat in the middle of Nottingham’s central square. Just like the wise men, pirates and many others before me, I used the star to find my way back to another McDonald’s. I sat there writing, reading and charging my phone as people looked at me weird from time to time. An hour before my train departed I got kicked out because I didn't purchase anything. I politely made my way back to the station, took the train back home, showered, crushed my radio class and finished the essay. 

Would I do this again? Yes, without question. Music has been the fuel to many successful adventures for me and many others. According to the UK’s Live Music Census conducted in 2017, about 10.9 million people traveled inside the union for music-ing purposes and a total 809,000 people came from overseas for the same reason. In times when we are constantly reminded by bigger powers that division is our best bet, music comes in and proves them wrong again, again, and again. This gig taught me that no matter who you are, there will always be a home for people that want togetherness. For people that want barriers to be abolished. Music has sparked rebellions for centuries and it will not stop. Let’s sing, dance and yell! Share a song, go to a concert, travel to a new town and listen to a local band. Anew, let's utilize music as our ally as we tear every single wall down.