Shadows of the (Elder) Colossus
It's Monday morning, I sit in the lab enjoying the second cup of coffee to bolster through the workday. The sound of various mechanical arms and motors offer a calm atmosphere, the quiet of which I can appreciate abundantly after the wonderful chaotic volume of this weekends Elder Colossus album release show. Any opportunity to see the heavy those gentleman offer, the chaos of Adolyne, and the frenetic noise of both Grond, and Sacriflesh not only leaves my body fatigued, but more importantly, my mind inspired, my heart full, and my wardrobe improved by at least two shirts and a longsleeve.
I love live music, especially the heavy shows. While I've attended significantly less shows since my departure from playing in 2018, and subsequent hermit life to follow, over the last few years some wonderful friends have convinced me to get motivated and back into socializing and visiting the community that for 15 years was the major focal point of my art and connection. The imposter in me likes to create stories about why I shouldn't see people that I spent so many years connected to, and every time I step passed the anxiety barrier I'm reminded that the imposter is an asshole and people generally appreciate my presence. This show was no different and I was so happy to have a hug or handshake with so many people that helped form the art and human I currently embody. There's something really beautiful about the low expectation, high reciprocity of music community socializing.
"Are you well? Have you seen any good shows lately? What are you creating these days? We should really grab a coffee or a bite sometime! Ah, next band is up."
Smile.
Nod.
Turn to the stage as the drummer does a final snare and kick check before another 45 minutes of chaotic dissociation. Music is a powerful experience. Music surrounded by others sharing that experience is a whole other experience.
A ritual of individually experienced communal worship.
Music has always been something really spiritual in a way for me. I grew up in a born-again Christian church where my favorite part of the service (and literally the only part I can still recollect) was those somewhat cringey, three chord, oddly dom/sub dynamic adult contemporary hymns. From the age of 10 I remember always trying to find the harmonizing notes with the congregation. Living in a household of young, overworked parents didn't leave a lot of opportunity to be loud without limiters. The tiny church off Argyle St gave me 15 minutes a week to be loud, to be a part of a shared volume, and to sing.
I don't think I fully appreciated what an important cathartic thing singing can be. When I aged out of that faith in my teen years, I found live music, metal bands, and an opportunity to sing (and scream) in a community that was so much more raw, personal, connected, and powerful. The clean ritual of major chords and appreciative words was abandoned for a place of frenetic, unfiltered, unashamed anger, rebellion, exploration, and the freedom to explore what sound and voice could be with far less limitations. I haven't sung into a microphone in 8 years. I feel that loss of that release. I feel that barrier separating myself from that emotional release. Being loud, being without filter, being raw and human is incredible.
This show, as every show I attend now, reminds me of that beautiful, powerful, often overlooked aspect of society. A place to be loud. A place to be uncontained.
A ritual to reconnect with your rawest, truest self
A place to do that with friends and comrades
A time to let the chaos that is be channeled.
A divine intervention riding a d-beat and double-kick.
A couple months ago I had the opportunity to shoot a couple rolls of film for Elder Colossus and an incredible band from BC known as "Pure Love Eternal Peace." It was my first successful attempt to shoot some live performances in several years.
This Halloween album release show was my second.
I love experiencing a show through the cinematic frame of my viewfinder. I love finding spots in the room to capture a great angle on a musician. I love trying to position my framing and movements to capture what they feel like to experience in a venue.
I have an abundance of appreciation for professional photographers that have the gear, the reflexes, and the ISO understanding to create sharp, beautifully crisp photos of bands. Low light is a bitch to shoot in, and the skills to capture bright, sharp images of flailing humans must feel like trying to catch a cat without soft food or churu. Nigh impossible to the average thumbed hand. I've taken to exploring a combination of slow motion video to get that crisp look without the struggle of getting good, and in my still captures allowing the shutter drag to take the wheel.
And oh, do I love when it drives.
Shutter drag is an important aspect of my creative output because it feels to me like capturing a dream. I love the way its unpredictable, the way that I never known exactly what I'll get and that gives my dopamine drive and endless joy. It also leans into a spiritual place, in a couple uses of the term.
Every photo is a ghost.
Every photo is a dead state of being, that existed for the time the shutter was open, and will never exist again. The click of the shutter a tolling bell of immediate entropy.
Shutter drag also literally looks haunted. Like a person is distorted and we interpret that distortion as emotionally reflective, or expressing an ulterior persona or expression. A duality of being in a moment.
It also, in its simplest form, is capturing movement. It is a shutter open long enough to capture a movement from here to there and blur the space between. There was a guitar here. It's gone. Well, it's not necessarily gone, but it's not here.
A click of the shutter, a moment in time, revealing what was and will not be again.
A single finger ceremony to commemorate the existence of everything that was, briefly, frozen in time.
A ceremony to capture a ritual.
A live music ritual
A ritual of individual, collective connection. A raw, chaotic, emotional display. A moment that exists, powerfully and will never exist again. Collective chaos in a collection of moments. A blur of bodies, snapping, twisting, flailing. Faces contorted, veils lost amidst the catharsis of release. A sea of shapes amalgamating into a massive vibration of human forms syncing to the vibration of sounds.
To hear a god in the vibration and to collectively become it.
The higher self expressed through passion and motion. A connection between principalities of vibration and thought. Mind meets spirit through the conduit of thrashing bodies.
Divine intervention.
I have seen the light.
-d
dsmsblk
Darknight