The comparison may sound a little much coming just after Yeezus, but last night reminded me just how much experiences like that have the frenzied feel of church, somehow. Big, tightly packed, standing room gigs inspire a kind of embodied spiritualism in me. Bass and rhythm that penetrates my bones, my hair clinging to my face and my neck, the beat of strobe lighting effects against my eyelids and my entire body feels suffused with something other than myself, and yet at the same time feels entirely mine.
I often worry, before gigs like that, that I’ll get on the floor and find that I’ve lost the taste, but the lights drop and the bass starts and the crowd around me starts to melt and I’m so deeply in my body and it’s beautiful.
And I come out of it with my ears ringing, and my ankles crying with regret, and it’s not long before the sweat plastering my hair to my skin is just this side of slimy, but even so, everything feels just a little bit brighter, for a while. And that’s so worth it.