Bataclan – stand for jam

by Russell S. Glowatz

Yesterday I woke up to news alerts on my phone – another shooting, what else is new? While relatively numb to this uniquely American phenomenon, this mass tragedy was immensely different – music festival goers were violently gunned down in Las Vegas. This one hit close to home – music was under assault. Thinking the day couldn’t possibly get worse, the news came through that Tom Petty was found in cardiac arrest and unresponsive – again thinking the day couldn’t possibly get worse, false reports of his death came through the airwaves spiraling Monday into a foggy haze of misinformation. While reports of his death were premature, he would later slip this mortal coil and join the likes of his Traveling Wilburys compatriots, Roy Orbison and George Harrison.

I cannot help but think of the day George Harrison passed away. Too young, too soon, dreariness draped that otherwise serene fall afternoon. Yesterday was similarly beautiful and became immensely ickier – the worst mass shooting in U.S. history, coupled with the death of a Mount Rushmore level rock icon, brought us to the precipice of emotional chaos – then our hearts were collectively thrown in a blender, muddied with media misinformation. Now with the knowledge of what actually occurred, America sits in mourning. Music was burned on both ends of the candle yesterday – the audience attacked, and a performer taken down.

The day the music died 2.0 – was this what fans felt like that fateful moment discovering the destiny of Buddy, Ritchie, and the Big Bopper? The emotional stew we find ourselves in must have been similar to what was experienced in February of ’59. Yet they survived, and so will we – and the music never really died at all, did it? Within a few short years, the rock ‘n’ roll scene thrived like never before, as will the festival scene, and the music scene at large right now. I have a feeling we won’t miss a beat – however the cold harsh reality now exists that music festivals, concerts, and gatherings are now active targets of terrorism, domestic or otherwise.

Vigilance is now necessary – our favorite escape from the mediocrity of daily existence has been tarnished by the violence of the outside world. How we go about making our scene safe for fans and performers alike at outdoor music events is very much above my pay grade, yet I’m sure the right people are already working on plans. Hopefully they strike a proper balance between security and serenity.

One way or another, the show must go on, and it will go on. In memoriam of Tom Petty and festival goers gunned down, tribute concerts and events are already being planned – and coincidentally one event that was already in play will now be a fitting memorial. Tom Petty’s music will radiate brightly across the world as we come to terms with these monumental losses. Precautions will be taken, and our escape from the day-to-day will be upheld. Music was violated, yet music will be the very thing that heals us all. “One way or another, this darkness got to give,” and as Mickey Hart poignantly said in response to the Paris attacks on the Bataclan and elsewhere, nearly two years ago, “music is the best healing agent we know.” Music is our lifeblood, one of our quintessential reasons for being, and it can never be silenced.

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(Originally published on Grateful Music)

Russell’s Round Room

Music guides us, binds us, takes us through our darkest hours, and accompanies us through our greatest triumphs. It’s our therapy through tragedy, and our soundtrack through serenity. And on Friday evening, as music lovers perished, it was brutally besieged. In this age when terror attacks have become a daily possibility, and many of us have numbed ourselves to the specter of these catastrophes hitting home, a concert venue being the target of such hate chills us to the bone. Our sanctuary, our abode on the road, where we often find our truer selves, where we transcend the monotony of daily existence, has been breached by the blood and fury of those with the express mission to spread dread. Yet while music was viciously violated this night, it will be the very thing that heals us in the end.

No doubt upon hearing of this attack, many of us briefly envisioned what it would be like in such a scenario, as it isn’t a stretch to put ourselves in the shoes of the Eagles of Death Metal fans, crew, and band members at their Friday night concert at the Bataclan. Fear is natural, and is the direct goal of a terror event, driven home as this particular strike hit six different public spheres throughout Paris. We may feel unease upon our first entrance into a music venue after this attack, but France will recover from this tragedy, as our distress will pass. In marching through our fear, the music will heal our misgivings on the other side. As we trust in the melody to get us through, our resolve as a collective will help us move on.

Music is my therapy, and in a live setting it’s superbly intensive. Whatever social anxiety, shyness, or melancholia I sometimes experience on the outside is quickly shed afar at a live music gathering. When I get confused and listen to the music play, my ills often melt away. Now today as some of us are likely agonizing over a sense of innocence that’s been lost for our greatest escape, we try to make sense of the nonsensical. As live music has been the soundtrack that has kept our lives in motion all these years, this attack appears as a personal affront to our very way of being. Many of us happen to be the best versions of ourselves when taking in music firsthand with our loved ones. And as we contemplate and process these events, our transcendent selves will reign supreme, as we preserve our therapeutic outlet, and that outlet maintains us.

While everyone processes tragedy differently, we should aim to let the music heal, as it has always done. Let us walk through the despair together at our next live music event. Let us use this tragedy as a reminder of the privilege we sometimes take for granted, the honor to see our favorite musicians year after year in safety. Let’s look out for each other on our musical journeys, and while we’ve always done this, let’s pay extra special attention to those around us, and lend helping hands when we can. We never know when danger is around the corner, so lets be cautious, but as it’s sometimes unavoidable, let’s live it up in the moment, traversing our trepidation, one show at a time, with each other.

Let’s project those good vibes when we can, because in the end positive energy will outweigh the negative, if we let it. And through the music positivity reigns freely. Never will terrorists’ hell bent on disturbing our way of life take away our hymns and harmonies. As long as humans roam the earth, there will be live tunes to absorb. It could be the cockroaches and a couple of us, and we’ll figure a way to make music. Music is inbred in our souls. We take as much a part in creating it as it does in shaping our lives and our surroundings. No one can take that away from us. Ever. Music is our binding force, music is our home. As Mickey Hart poignantly said in response to these attacks, “music is the best healing agent we know.” Music is our lifeblood, one of our quintessential reasons for being, and it can never be silenced.

Words: Russell S. Glowatz

Tag: Bataclan

The Day the Music Died: Las Vegas & Tom Petty

Healing with Music: In the Wake of Paris