Tuesday, April 13, 2004

my head explodes. (in a good way.)

Have you ever done something, and then not wanted do it again, for fear of being disappointed? Lili Hadyn is like that for me. I'm almost afraid to try to see her play again, because the first time was so brain-bustingly amazing. (Aside: Perhaps sex was designed purposely to be really-oh-let's-be-honest-blah on the first try, for precisely this reason...?)

From my paper and pen journal, on her March 14th performance with daKah:

Our seats were close, but not so close, high enough up that we were overlooking the stage rather than looking at it. The first sets had been fun, but nothing special. We felt a little deflated, actually, perhaps because we had subjected ourselves to too much hype. (We seem to do that often!)

And then it happened.

A lone blue light casting down from that stepped and crooked wooden ceiling, and Lili Hadyn in a harlot-red, midriff bearing two-piece spandex gown--looking to us, seated above, so small and square in her impossibly flat shoes, bow poised over the strings. It would have been a bit melodramatic, had it not been so casually set. She had marched, matter-of-factly and without fanfare, through the end-of-intermission chit-chat, onto the stage, fiddled with her amplifier, and poised to play. The hall fell silent. It was one of those still, kinetic, electric moments that you don’t really recognize as such until after the fact.

The silence was ended as a harp played first, joined by a few solemn violas, and then she began--(pause) and it was like nothing we had ever heard before. It was the kind of loud and beautiful that makes your heart ache, and your head explode. We would go for stretches holding our breath, without even realizing it, and when we finally let ourselves exhale, we were out of breath, spent, just from listening. It was electric, ethereal, and wholly present. She would hit and hold a high E and we would just want to scream, it was so excruciating, but so lovely and so exhilarating--it was wanting it to stop and never to end, both at the same time. It was like falling recklessly in love, like the very best sex, it was awful and it was fantastic--it made you want to scream and tear your hair out and die in just that moment.

And when it was over, it made you wondrously, immediately, glad to be alive. And everything, everything, that happened after, was colored by that performance, every spoken word was more heartfelt, the air smelled better, the conversation was more scintillating, the city more beautiful, than you had ever remembered it. And because we came and we heard her play, in dark corners of our heads that are for remembering such evenings, that night would be that kind of night--happier, brighter, more brilliant--forever.


posted by m at 5:46 PM



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