I sat in Belcourt Theater the other night in a likely dedicated audience. This was for the true fans. We came seeking insight, for a glimpse in to the workings of a favored band. We waited for The Swell Season to grace us with their presence. The theater darkened as the documentary began.
I'd long forgotten that a documentary covering the band's two year tour had been made. By chance, Belcourt was offering a second showing of the movie. It seemed perfectly paired with my birthday week.
My love affair with The Swell Season began with the movie Once. My friend Jill and I watched it one fall night, almost a year after we'd traveled to Ireland. The movie began unpretentiously and my heart soared with the songs. Jill and I pointed out the various places we'd been to in Dublin but mostly we were caught up in the story about a Guy and a Girl and the music they made.
Were Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova actors, musicians, both? How did they make such wonderful music together? Once blurred the lines while perfectly capturing What Might Have Been between its characters. We didn't get our happy ending but it seemed strangely fitting.
A couple of months later, Glen and Marketa picked up an Oscar for their song Falling Slowly. Their story became our story. I held on to Marketa's delayed acceptance speech for some time: "fair play to those who dare to dream and don’t give up."
There were rumors that Glen and Marketa dated in real life. That the movie romance became real. This seemed right and fitting.
But then came the release of The Swell Season's Strict Joy album in 2009. They'd broken up but managed to keep the band going. Out of their pain came remarkable music.
And so I came to The Swell Season documentary wondering what I would see. Would I root for their relationship or understand its demise?
As the movie played, I did both. We witnessed sweet, tender moments and what we saw was so good. We also saw a dischordance so obvious that it mystified me how they'd ever gotten together in the first place.
Glen worked hard at the musician's life for 17 years before finding a semblance of fame. Meanwhile, Marketa hadn't even graduated high school when they shot the movie. Almost two decades between them. She was uneasily thrust in to the limelight. He's a brooding artist to her matter of fact forthrightness. One scene toward the end is striking in their differing outlooks.
When Glen howls his way through a song or Marketa nearly cries her way through hers, we are swept up with them. We find beauty in their melancholy. Regardless of circumstances, music resonates and transcends. It helps us remember and sometimes even forget.
We never see their Great Romance or the actual break up but each scene shows us exactly what it should.
The movie left us wanting for more. We relate to the ache of what could be and what isn't.
When I got home that night, my friend called me, having done a little research already.
"Marketa married someone else," he announced.
There it was, a finality the movie couldn't give us.
***
The Ryman Auditorium show sold out in minutes. Too fast for my friends and I to get tickets. I thought my days as a Civil Wars groupie had come to an end but the week before the show, a friend asked me to go when her husband had to drop out.
Their first show at the Ryman. It was the stuff of dreams, theirs and ours. I remarked to my friend that it seemed like witnessing history. As I've sensed from the moment I discovered the band two years ago, this band is going places.
I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the opening act The Staves. Gorgeous spare harmonies. The three women stood in the center of the stage and captivated us all. I could almost forget that they weren't the reason we came.
But then Joy Williams and John Paul White stepped out on to the stage, looking very much at home. The music swept over us, one song after the next.
Pain, heartbreak, despair. Relationships in all their complexity and complications. The music exploring these maladies haunts us in the best of ways. As John Paul joked, there are bands that make you happy but the Civil Wars are not one of them. There's no denying their appeal, however.
Ever the entertainers, the mix of banter partnered with searing harmonies kept the audience entranced and garnered them not just one but three standing ovations.
(Since it's Nashville, there was the ubiquitous surprise guest appearance by Taylor Swift. She and The Civil Wars performed Safe and Sound, their contribution to The Hunger Games soundtrack.)
Without fail, I've cried at every Civil Wars show I've been to. This, my fifth, was no exception. It wasn't bad to cry- and it certainly didn't reflect my positive state of mind. Sometimes it's the music itself that gets to me but usually it's the lyrics that pierce my soul. I sat in the wooden pew two days after turning 32 and let the words wash over me. Then I dried my tears. I tapped my feet. I threw myself into the beauty of the evening.
Because 32 seems full of hope and yet I still relate to shades of gray. Maybe we need to remember the sad, pain-filled periods of our life to properly appreciate the good times. There is grace in processing where we were and where we'd like to be. I believe the gloom can illuminate our way, from darkness to light. So even though my outlook is good, I will continue to listen to music that moves me in this way.
They took the stage for their encore and left us awed over an unplugged Dance Me to the End of Love. The last note hung over the auditorium begging to be plucked down. Instead, it hovered over a night we did not want to end.
We filed out of the warmth of the Ryman and in to the flurries sparkling the winter air. And this, too, felt right.
What music inspires you? Do you find beauty in the melancholy?
