The problem with concerts is that they end.
Somewhere along the string of songs, inside that lovely cloud of music, I often feel this pang of dread that the show will inevitably come to an end.
And this weekend, watching my beloved Avett Brothers in Springfield, MO was no different. They are wildly talented musicians, know how to put on a fantastic live show, and produce powerful lyrics that speak volumes. Their music is relatable and has a way of eloquently capturing emotions that can’t be voiced, and it is a downright beautiful thing.
I am giddy from the start, and Avett does not disappoint. We smoothly transition between deep ballads to acoustic duets to rocking group numbers to folky hymns and back again, and the guys nail every last one of them. It’s emotional, it’s passionate, it’s authentic, it’s raw, and it’s so good. I deliberately soak in every sensation, and I don’t want to see it go.
I sing along loudly, fully savoring the magic before me. I can feel the buzz of the bass lifting through my cowboy boots, and I want to freeze this moment and live inside of it. I want to stop time and put this experience in a box and keep it for future enjoyment. Pull it out whenever I need an Avett fix. But that’s not how life works. We are given these sweet opportunities to taste something beautiful, something that speaks directly to our hearts, but the moment cannot possibly be endless. Thankfully, however, once the encore concludes and the applause dies down, we walk away with the gift of memories, and that is a treasure in and of itself.
When nothing is owed or deserved or expected
And your life doesn’t change by the man that’s elected
If you’re loved by someone, you’re never rejected
Decide what to be and go be it
Head Full of Doubt, Road Full of Promise