"By the final show, I had become so accustomed to Autchre's abstract musical language that my entire psyche locked in step with their frenetic rhythms. I'd been overwhelmed at the first Seattle show, but in downtown L.A., there I was, soaring above it all, understanding, anticipating, reacting, and dancing and dancing and dancing. In other words, I came out of it a changed person. When you're a teenager, you can be changed by music on a weekly basis, in your room, with just a pair of headphones."
"And while I relentlessly pursue new sounds, I do occasionally allow myself the comfort of nostalgia. I don't like to do this, you know. As a rule, I don't listen to the music I liked when I was young. I don't like using streaming. But driving alone down the West Coast, with hundreds of miles ahead of me and 50 years behind, it felt right."
"I listened to the Deele's "Two Occasions," which I slow-danced to at Comstock Junior High. Eric B. and Rakim's "Paid in Full," which my cousin and I memorized from a tape full of hiss. "Dark Ages" by Nomeansno, which vaporized my brain at the River Theater in Guerneville. "I've Got a Crush on You," which my homecoming date sang to me, cementing a lifelong relationship with Frank Sinatra and the Great American Songbook."
Immersive live performances of complex electronic music can synchronize the psyche with intricate rhythms, producing exhilaration, anticipation, and prolonged dancing. Long solitary travel amplifies emotional impact, turning concerts and road trips into catalysts for personal transformation that rival adolescent musical awakenings. Familiar songs act as powerful memory anchors, transporting listeners to specific places, relationships, and moments from earlier life. A persistent pursuit of new sounds coexists with occasional nostalgic listening, demonstrating that music both sustains identity over decades and rekindles youthful feeling during reflective journeys.
Read at Kqed
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