"Could you please sit down?" she said. She was older than me which was surprising because at a Gavin DeGraw concert, I'm often one of the older people in the room. She was with her husband, a rather morose looking fellow who was clearly not having a good time.
This was the Morristown, New Jersey, stop of the Andy Grammer/Gavin DeGraw tour. We were at MPAC--the Morristown Performing Arts Center (the former Community Theater when I was growing up here). It was about 6 weeks into their tour and my 5th show thus far on the tour. So you'd think I'd seen it all, heard it all and it wouldn't be as exciting, wouldn't you? But you're wrong. Every show is like a new show, even though their set lists don't change much. Why I see Gavin as often as I do is a story for another time, however. Tonight, as I'm looking forward to my 7th show of this tour, I'm thinking about why I still can't sit.
She was clearly unhappy with me. "I can't see," she said. "Could you please sit down?"
"No," I said, "I'm sorry, but I can't. I just can't."
I'm sure she thought I meant I wouldn't sit down. But I actually meant it the way I said it. I was unable to sit down.
To be sure, we'd all been sitting for the lovely and talented opening act, Wrabel. But his music is so introspective, quiet, in a way (not quiet-sounding; he delivers with passion), I understand why at seated theater shows, people remain seated during his set. And unfortunately, as with most opening acts, the audience hasn't completely arrived yet (much to my amazement always).
But when the energetic, animated band that supports Andy Grammer hits the stage with their hard driving introduction in advance of his entrance, people leap to their feet. They always do, everywhere I've been, any time I've seen him. Not just on this particular tour. But not in Morristown, though, on that night. I slid to the edge of my seat, my legs itching to get me up. I looked around. There were two people in the front row standing. They are huge Andy Grammer fans whom we'd run into several times in the last few weeks. Seeing them, I slid farther to the edge. A couple more people got up. That was all the company I needed. I was on my feet and involved with the dynamic show that was happening live with only 6 rows between them and me.
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| Why are they sitting? |
Then Andy launched into one of his first hits, Keep Your Head Up, And up they got. Finally, I thought, they're up and we're all in this together. But no; after that song, they were back in their seats. There's a point in the show where Andy encourages everyone to dance along with him in a specific way. He calls it a 2-step and he has a specific face that goes with it. It's humorous and so much fun. In Morristown when inviting everyone to dance he implored the audience, "Please try dancing with this song ... if you want, you can sit back down afterwards." And once again, everyone got up. And once again, at the end of the song everyone sat down. Not me. Not Phyllis. Not the two girls in the front or the one girl over to the right.
Between Andy's and Gavin's sets, I looked around. The woman and her husband were no one to be found. They'd left. I didn't feel badly as I truly was honest. I was/am unable to sit during live music. But it was also loud (loud is good, you know). And her husband had truly looked miserable. They couldn't have known Andy Grammer and Gavin DeGraw. If they had, they'd have known it was going to be loud. They must have thought they were coming to see Michael Buble or Harry Connick, Jr. (both of whom I like very much but they are more sit-and-clap performances, you know, politely).
I was thinking about the whole sitting phenomenon while the crews were clearing Andy's gear away and putting Gavin's in place. There's a certain symbiosis that happens when you're in the presence of performers like Andy Grammer and Gavin DeGraw. Or Train. Or Bruce. Or any other high-energy performer you can name. They're poring everything they have into every song, laying everything on that stage. It's a gift and they hold nothing back. I feel it wrapping around me like an invisible force. I can't sit. I won't sit.
Because, you see, it's a 2-way street. They give us their energy. And we give it all back. Gavin will tell you he needs it (you can actually hear him say that on his live album). It's as if for a couple of hours you're in a relationship with the people on the stage. They are giving this gift of music (okay, I know it's not a gift because I've paid, sometimes dearly, to be there but you know what I mean) and we receive it and return it back in the form of participation and appreciation. And this 2-way relationship builds throughout the night until audience and performers are in complete, well, harmony, and it feels as though the crowd and the musicians have united on some imaginary plane somewhere. Andy calls it an emotional chiropractic experience. You may have arrived with some aches and pains, probably in your soul, but you're leaving having been adjusted, in a haze of happiness. And it flows both ways. It's the best thing about experiencing live music. You become a part of it.
When Gavin and his band took the stage, it was a repeat of the response to Andy's show. People got to their feet for his big radio hits and sat during the rest of the performance. Gavin had been really quite ill that day (to the point he didn't play his scheduled encore). Not everyone would have known that; I think these bits of information probably don't get out beyond the circle of fans that pay attention to every social media cue. I marveled at Gavin's energy despite his being sick. I don't think anyone realized how ill he was. He gave his usual 150% to the audience as did his band. He, too, invited the people to dance if they felt so moved. Apparently they did not.
Morristown is my home town. I was thrilled beyond measure when the tour was announced and I saw Morristown on the schedule. I couldn't wait to welcome these bands to my home. We were lucky enough to actually run into Stephen Wrabel outside the theater before the show and had the opportunity to thank him for his music and they way he humbly shares his life with his audience. But inside the theater, I was embarrassed at the lack of enthusiasm. I felt let down by my home town. They clearly didn't understand the open invitation to become immersed in the music and the energy. And I didn't understand them.
Just to be clear, I've been asked to sit at a couple of other shows; I don't want to give my hometown a hard time. But at those other shows, sitters were clearly in the minority and just had the misfortune to be seated behind me.
So if you're sitting behind me at one of these concerts, don't ask me to sit. You already know the answer ... I'm not able to constrain myself. And I'm sorry.
Sorry, not sorry, that is.
Wrabel ... Check him out here.
Andy Grammer and bassist Zach Rudolph. Energy. See it here.
Gavin performing You Make My Heart Sing Louder from his new record, Something Worth Saving.
(Thanks to @MedicoMG for her awesome video. As always.)
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