I’m extremely emotionally connected to the music by the Swedish duo, First Aid Kit. All of their albums carry across themes that perfectly describe what I feel being human is like…they capture “adult angst,” much more eloquently than I have ever been able to. I associate this grown-up angst with these annoying questions, Why doesn’t love work out? Did I make the right decision? Is this the right person? Is this the right career move? Shit, love it working out! What is the thing that should drive me?
Adult angst doesn’t get enough credit as a topic of conversation, probably because everyone tells kids that things change after school, and everything is apple pie. I appreciate that First Aid Kit seems to nail my general feelings about life right now, and that they can do it while being incredibly musically talented.
However, despite this emotional connection and my deep respect for their talents (those harmonies), I found myself stressed about their upcoming show in Detroit.
I’ve already had the pleasure of seeing First Aid Kit once this year, and as I thought about seeing them again, it caused me to spend a lot of time reflecting on what exactly music means to your emotional state. I knew very well that the second the opening harmonies hit from “To a Poet,” that I would have slight tears running down my face, in public… probably losing my Detroit street cred (which is pretty lacking already). And I had to ask myself, do you want this? Do you want to feel all the feels that this show is going to bring you?
One particular line from Nick Hornby’s novel, High Fidelity constantly popped into my head during this decision…
“What came first–the music or the misery? Did I listen to the music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to the music? Do all those records turn you into a melancholy person?”
U
ltimately, I decided that beauty of First Aid Kit was their ability to fill a space inside me that needs to be turned upside down every now and again. Plus, listening to them is like having the person who just gets you, right next to you. Their words, as they say in “To a Poet,” keep me on my feet when I think I just might fall apart.
Pondering this decision, I put on their most recent album, Stay Gold, and a lyric came bursting over my speakers, “shit gets fucked up, and people just disappear.” That being the lyric that sums up a decade of my life, in a good way. Reminding me of all the people that served a purpose in my life and might not be here anymore, of all the mistakes made along the way from my end…. And the fantastic, playful way they sing that lyric, made me excited to go experience the entire range of emotions that I would feel at this show.
So I went to the concert at St. Andrews Hall in Detroit… I grinned, I was in awe and shed myself a few tears. They opened with “Lion’s Roar,” and I forgot just how much First Aid Kit actually can go outside the folk genre and rock. It was a really good way to set up the remainder of the set, especially given that at the end of the song, they said “let’s do a song about how life sucks!” and then, they played “Master Pretender,” angry, which is a different take then you get when listening to it at home. Angry with a dash of hopeful, a very hard to explain audience experience. Klara Söderberg, who plays the guitar in the duo, let the crowd know that on Wednesdays we party, but by party she means listen to party songs, which they consider to be songs about depressed-middle aged people.
Klara and her sister Johanna Söderberg played the first song they ever wrote together, when they were 14. I can’t tell you one thing about that song, because my mind was doing mental math calculations regarding their age at that point. I’m in awe that for being about 25, they have managed to capture what being in your 20’s feels like, like they are reflecting on that time period, not currently living it. I have never managed to be that insightful and was only assuming that by the time I escaped this decade, I would be able to speak to it. All I typically say, is “this is hard!” As if I wasn’t already jealous of their musical talents, I had to add child-psychologist savants to the list.
First Aid Kit also does a nice job of finding the silver-lining on the whole being human thing. “something good always comes with the bad, a song is never just sad.” They have a very playful energy on stage, Klara spends a significant amount of time shamelessly jumping around the stage. Plus, she does some fantastic Janis Joplin hair moves that create an energy that makes you beyond happy to be standing sardined in a crowd.
At one point in the show (they did this at the prior show I had seen as well), they stepped away from their mics and sang, “Ghost Town.” There isn’t anything more powerful than following a folk-rock jam session with silence from a crowd and just voices. Nothing. It definitely had the power to make me feel connected to an audience and for me right now, a city full of strangers.
Their performance of “Shattered and Hollow,” was one of the stand-out songs of the night. Again, because I connect so much to the ideas presented in that song, “I’m tired, but resolute,” “I’d rather be broken than empty,” but also because it is hauntingly beautiful. The vocal range, the sly smiles they give to audience members during it and the band’s performance throughout it.
The encore was a really interesting choice, but one that showed their vocal talent probably more than any of their own songs do. They chose to do Paul Simon’s “America” as their return to the stage.
They also encored with one of my favorite songs, “Emmylou,” which, is a powerful song. There are times when I hate the “let’s all sing the chorus” together tactic at shows and times when it just works. This was an instance of when it just worked. It was like the audience could actually sing the harmonies needed to compliment the duo. By the second repeat of all singing together, I couldn’t continue to join in because DAMNIT being patient with love is too hard, and I shouldn’t have worn mascara to this show.
Besides the one drunk girl who thought the pound of the kick drum was an excuse to try and start a clap-a-long on EVERY song, the show was perfect. Exactly the type of musical-therapy one needs. Since First Aid Kit already understands all my adult angst problems, I will be reaching out to them to ask them to address the dress or sweatpants dilemma that occurs to me every day I get older.
Regarding Hornby’s misery vs. the music dilemma, I’ve determined that the emotional experience is quite different pending the context you are listening to the music in. If you’re listening to the record at home (or autobiographically categorizing them, que movie version with Cusack), then you have the time to be in your head, really experiencing the lyrics and dissecting what they mean to you. This is the experience that has the ability to create adult angst. But the live performance, it is so much different, like the musicians are pulling the angst from you with each chord, completing was has to be the greatest form of public service.