tuesday night rock

We snap on our lights and set off squinting into the rain, which is sly and invisible in the six o’clock dark. We stop at a red light and lean precariously against a street light pole, trying to keep our feet high and dry. My head tilts sympathetically to one side as I notice the thick slanted sheets of water falling backlit above the intersection.

For the love of rock, we bike all the way over the arched yellow bridge spanning the city’s watery edge.  We lock up our rides outside the biggest music hall in Utrecht and present our Band of Horses tickets at the door. The gloves/shawl/cap/raincoat/jacket/sweater peel off quicker than they were put on.

We climb down into the pit and wade into the middle of the crowd, where the necks all crane in one direction. The lights pulse and the bass shivers across the surface of the beer we clutch in one hand. Ben Bridwell’s voice swoops out into the hall and catches us up with it. A few songs in, we’re already hoarse – we’re in a sea, and the sea is stomping and shouting and singing. So we stomp and shout and sing.

I go home with the guy who whoops and hollers the loudest…I always do. We race our bikes neck to neck back into the city through the wet and the dark, jazzed to be alive.

PS. I was too blissed out to take any pictures of Band of Horses so here’s my favorite rock star instead. (Image of Coppersky by Sharon Duursma)