Simon Green, you know what’s up.
I would love to be able to shake your hand and tell you what a great show you played on October 22, but the entire experience was so much bigger than my vocabulary is, and I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you like that.
I would like to be able to say my thanks on behalf of the sea of fans you blew away at The Commodore that night, but I don’t think my voice is loud enough to encompass the sheer enthusiasm of everyone in that room. Trust me, from the second your face appeared through the smoke, until the sobering slap of the brisk fall air on Granville Street, we were stoked.
I wish we could tell you how much we appreciate the fact that you come back to our fair and rainy city so often, and want you to know that we’re perfectly alright living in a day-to-day reverie that swaps between reminiscing over your last show and anticipating your next one.
Sure it’s inconvenient to have our heads looping North Borders instead of memorizing cell functions for that Biology midterm we forgot to study for, and the everlasting Bono-boners are always a little awkward to talk about on a first date, but honestly, it’s not much of a sacrifice in exchange for all that you give back.
First of all, you were great. I know I probably covered that, but seriously. You were phenomenal. The way you came onto the stage and started jamming out on your sampler with what I can only imagine was the hugest grin on your face was inspiring to us all. The reason I’m basing this on assumption and not solid fact was because you were jumping around too enthusiastically for me to catch a steady glimpse of your expression, though it might have been because we were collectively trying to match you leap for leap.
Suddenly, the crowd erupted in applause, the lights dimmed, and you picked up a bass and faded to the back of the stage, which would have been heart-wrenching had Szjerdene not been there to step, glimmering, into the spotlight.
Can we just talk about Szjerdene for a second? Where did you find her? How is it even possible that such a person exists and can look and sound the way she does? You, your band, and her on the same stage were one of those combinations that make you wonder how there can be unfairness in the world. The way she commanded the crowd with her voice and body language left us helpless to do much more than stare in open amazement as she sang her way to our very Bono-bones as the light glittered off her sparkly get-up.
Oh, but the lights. The lights! Whoever put together those flashing panels of psychedelic graphics is a sheer genius. Whoever was operating them for the show was even smarter. Not only was it all in perfect time to the music, the choice in colour and effects were perfectly suited to the mood of each song, which was probably for the best because without some sort of visual guidance, everyone would have maxed out in excitement by the third song and died from sensory overload.
The lights were a sight and a half, the audio was flawless, the crowd was one of the most genuinely pleased groups of people I’ve ever seen gathered under one roof, and you, Simon Green, really know how to put on a show.
So though I can’t remember, find, or invent the appropriate words to properly appreciate the magic you and your band worked that night, on behalf of the October 22 Commodore crowd, we thank you.
Thank you for putting on an amazing show.
Thank you for putting up with Vancouver weather.
Thank you for closing with “We Could Forever”.
We only wish you, you know, would forever.