Living Through Live Music

Sasquatch Music Bliss At The Gorge

By Joseph Friedrichs, 5-26-08

	Sleep gentle giant. Just sleep.

The first musician I saw perform live was Raffi. The show took place in the late 1980s at a large theater in Des Moines, Iowa. I don’t remember much about the music, but images of a man with a guitar and a beard singing peaceful songs about whales and polkas remain with me. And I remember eating popcorn while he sang. And I remember it all seeming very pleasant.

Nearly two decades have passed since the Raffi concert. In that time I’ve seen some the world’s finest musicians perform. I’ve rocked out to Neil Young, danced to the beats of Ben Harper, sang along with Joan Baez as she belted out “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down,” been entranced with Bela Fleck and his crew, tripped out with Radiohead, gawked at Lucinda Williams, spit with Michael Stipe, screamed with Okkervil River, chewed the fat with Taj Mahal, melted to the tenderness of Allison Krauss, crawled back home following music festivals in California, Washington and Tennessee. I’ve wished with John Prine, believed in the words of unknown street singers, witnessed a five-hour set from My Morning Jacket that ended with a sunrise and been devoted to live music going on a decade. Seeing, hearing and living through live music is the only time I truly lose my misanthropic core. When the music plays I feel truly comfortable being alive.

And despite all the greatness I associate with live music, the image of this passed-out guy is how I always feel at the end of things. I came across this snoring angel at the Sasquatch Music Festival held at the Gorge Amphitheater during Memorial Day Weekend. Despite the glory I found from the music and the madness, this is how I left feeling.

Have you ever felt that way about music?

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