Clifton Bridge
I had an amazing, emotional, and completely fulfilling weekend filled with live music and friends. It's no secret that I am a huge, glaring Jayhawks fan, and the last two days were overflowing with Jayhawks-related shows and experiences.
Saturday was the Mark Olson in-store performance, and as a newly-minted Electric Fetus employee I made it a point to volunteer myself to help fill in as needed during the performance. Mark showed up with his entire band and played four songs to a small crowd, and much to my dismay I spent most of the time helping a non-Jayhawks fan find some jazz records in the back corner of the store. Even though I couldn't devote my full attention to Mark, it was still fun to be in the store and hear him play tracks off of his new record, which has been one of my favorites for the past few weeks.
When Mark wrapped up his set, fans flooded the front counters and I debated whether or not to go grab my copy of the record from my purse downstairs and have him sign it. (For some reason, asking musicians to autograph CDs always makes me feel a little awkward.) After hemming and hawing over it, I finally decided to run down and grab my CD, and on my way through the store I happened to spot Gary Louris ambling through the front door. Yes, that Gary Louris. He walked in calmly, like he just happened to be in the neighborhood, and started shopping around. Needless to say, I freaked out.
I made the mistake (or happy accident, I can't quite tell) of gushing to my boss how much I loved Gary and the Jayhawks, and within minutes my boss was over talking to Gary and pointing in my general direction. Oh god, I thought to myself, Gary is about to learn what a freaky fan-girl I actually am. As I pretended to act normal and continue to ring up customers, Gary walked up to my till and introduced himself. He purchased two used records, the titles of which I don't remember because I was too freaked out and nervous, and proceeded to tell me that my boss had told him I run a magazine and that I was a fan. As if that wasn't enough, I proceeded to gush about how much I loved his music and that I had been at the hootenanny when he had played with Golden Smog, and he casually noted, "Oh yeah, you were in the front row." He remembered me. I almost died. Sigh.
So anyway. That experience was enough to blow my mind, coupled with the fact that my boss rushed over to take a picture of Gary and I (in which, as a side note, I look like a midget because he is so freaking tall).
Later that night, I went to the 400 Bar for the Mark Olson CD release party, and had my mind blown once again as he proceeded to play flawless renditions of his new songs and invite Gary up on stage to sing a few old Jayhawks tunes. It was a breathtaking show, full of "you should have been there" moments that I will proceed to rub in your face through a review on Reveille... I'm sorry. But seriously, you should have been there.
Which brings us to tonight. It was Revival night at the Turf, which was splendid (and featured yet another Jayhawk! My favorite, darling Tim). It was a great evening filled with friends and music and cheap beers. On the way home, I took University due to the 94 closures, stopped off at McDonald's for some late-night McNuggets, and then made the dumb mistake of trying to get on 35W south. Which, it so happens, is right where the bridge collapsed. Though I have been trying to figure out a way to see the bridge for weeks now, I was completely caught off guard by the sight of the road jutting up into the midnight sky, spotlights shining into the great emptiness below. I caught my breath on its way out my lungs, took a deep sigh, and started to bawl. As I maneuvered my car around the exit lane and back down University, I could feel the tears rushing down my cheeks, and my car stereo ironically and somewhat cruelly played Mark Olson's "Clifton Bridge." God, kill me know. "Some people come here to die, we came here to live/there's a hope in our hearts, there's a future in our soul," Mark sang as I sobbed and drove.
Turning onto the Washington bridge, I caught another glimpse of the spot-lit bridge falling into the water, chunks of metal and concrete jutting out at severe angles. It was more intense than I ever imagined. The thought of people trapped, some still today, underneath the wreckage, was enough to send me into an emotional panic. It felt more real, more significant, more dangerous than it had before. It, in the most real of ways, hit home.
I know people die every day, in strange and sometimes very cruel ways. I know there are soldiers dying in Iraq and Minnesotans dying in floods and people everywhere, every day, dying from terrible, preventable things. But the magnitude of this disaster is palpable, and I can't help but cry for the lives lost and damage inflicted.
I wish nothing but peace for the people affected by the collapse, and I just wanted to share the fact that I am feeling it, deeply. I know I can be a sap sometimes, but I am still working my way through this one.
Saturday was the Mark Olson in-store performance, and as a newly-minted Electric Fetus employee I made it a point to volunteer myself to help fill in as needed during the performance. Mark showed up with his entire band and played four songs to a small crowd, and much to my dismay I spent most of the time helping a non-Jayhawks fan find some jazz records in the back corner of the store. Even though I couldn't devote my full attention to Mark, it was still fun to be in the store and hear him play tracks off of his new record, which has been one of my favorites for the past few weeks.
When Mark wrapped up his set, fans flooded the front counters and I debated whether or not to go grab my copy of the record from my purse downstairs and have him sign it. (For some reason, asking musicians to autograph CDs always makes me feel a little awkward.) After hemming and hawing over it, I finally decided to run down and grab my CD, and on my way through the store I happened to spot Gary Louris ambling through the front door. Yes, that Gary Louris. He walked in calmly, like he just happened to be in the neighborhood, and started shopping around. Needless to say, I freaked out.
I made the mistake (or happy accident, I can't quite tell) of gushing to my boss how much I loved Gary and the Jayhawks, and within minutes my boss was over talking to Gary and pointing in my general direction. Oh god, I thought to myself, Gary is about to learn what a freaky fan-girl I actually am. As I pretended to act normal and continue to ring up customers, Gary walked up to my till and introduced himself. He purchased two used records, the titles of which I don't remember because I was too freaked out and nervous, and proceeded to tell me that my boss had told him I run a magazine and that I was a fan. As if that wasn't enough, I proceeded to gush about how much I loved his music and that I had been at the hootenanny when he had played with Golden Smog, and he casually noted, "Oh yeah, you were in the front row." He remembered me. I almost died. Sigh.
So anyway. That experience was enough to blow my mind, coupled with the fact that my boss rushed over to take a picture of Gary and I (in which, as a side note, I look like a midget because he is so freaking tall).
Later that night, I went to the 400 Bar for the Mark Olson CD release party, and had my mind blown once again as he proceeded to play flawless renditions of his new songs and invite Gary up on stage to sing a few old Jayhawks tunes. It was a breathtaking show, full of "you should have been there" moments that I will proceed to rub in your face through a review on Reveille... I'm sorry. But seriously, you should have been there.
Which brings us to tonight. It was Revival night at the Turf, which was splendid (and featured yet another Jayhawk! My favorite, darling Tim). It was a great evening filled with friends and music and cheap beers. On the way home, I took University due to the 94 closures, stopped off at McDonald's for some late-night McNuggets, and then made the dumb mistake of trying to get on 35W south. Which, it so happens, is right where the bridge collapsed. Though I have been trying to figure out a way to see the bridge for weeks now, I was completely caught off guard by the sight of the road jutting up into the midnight sky, spotlights shining into the great emptiness below. I caught my breath on its way out my lungs, took a deep sigh, and started to bawl. As I maneuvered my car around the exit lane and back down University, I could feel the tears rushing down my cheeks, and my car stereo ironically and somewhat cruelly played Mark Olson's "Clifton Bridge." God, kill me know. "Some people come here to die, we came here to live/there's a hope in our hearts, there's a future in our soul," Mark sang as I sobbed and drove.
Turning onto the Washington bridge, I caught another glimpse of the spot-lit bridge falling into the water, chunks of metal and concrete jutting out at severe angles. It was more intense than I ever imagined. The thought of people trapped, some still today, underneath the wreckage, was enough to send me into an emotional panic. It felt more real, more significant, more dangerous than it had before. It, in the most real of ways, hit home.
I know people die every day, in strange and sometimes very cruel ways. I know there are soldiers dying in Iraq and Minnesotans dying in floods and people everywhere, every day, dying from terrible, preventable things. But the magnitude of this disaster is palpable, and I can't help but cry for the lives lost and damage inflicted.
I wish nothing but peace for the people affected by the collapse, and I just wanted to share the fact that I am feeling it, deeply. I know I can be a sap sometimes, but I am still working my way through this one.
Awesome Andrea. I can't even tell you how many times I've cried to Clifton Bridge. Even before our bridge fell, this song reminded me of this city and why I am here. Then the bridge fell and the song started to carry that much more weight. I was a wonderful mess on Saturday when he sang it.
Thank god you had the song when you saw the bridge.
Posted by
Alexa |
3:28 PM, August 20, 2007
I couldn't help but think of our bridge either when listening to Clifton Bridge. The real bridge it's about is in Bristol and has been standing nearly 150 years. Apparently people used it as a suicide bridge for many years (you'll see why, if you look at a picture: http://www.clifton-suspension-bridge.org.uk/), and there's a tale of a young girl who jumped years and years ago, but whose dress acted like a parachute and she ended up living to be 80 something!
Anyway, I saw the fallen 35W bridge from University Ave for the first time just on Friday. There's a strange quiet and heavy sadness to it in real life that's not the same as the dramatic images I've seen in the media.
Posted by
David |
5:36 PM, August 20, 2007