the city: a return to london, and a darwin deez concert

after an early departure (who was the madman who booked the flight from reykjavik at 8:45 in the morning, meaning that in order to arrive in time i’d have to catch the six o’clock bus? oh. right.) and a slightly overcomplicated train journey (the ticket computer shut down twice, and the man they sent me to printed me out three receipts and no ticket) i found myself back in london once more. it was funny how natural it all felt again. even acclimating to france and iceland, in which they drive on the right (read: incorrect) side of the road, crossing a street in london was an old habit. it really does go to show you how a place ingrains itself into you.

this final night of my journey, i was staying up north of where i was previously, in shoreditch. i had actually never been into shoreditch properly the first time around, having bumped into the edges in bethnal green and in the city of london, but not having connected the dots, so to speak. my airbnb hosts were welcoming and remarkably funny.

i spent most of the afternoon and into the evening wandering about like an old pro, taking in my final chance to feel london thrum around me (at least, for a little while). there’s something about how fast everything moves in london that makes it feel almost relaxed. it’s like enrolling to a school of fish. everyone moves and flows around you, and you flow with it. there’s a beautiful sense of belonging–but perhaps that’s something more personal than i describe it to be. frankly, you’ve read enough of my thoughts on the subject that i’m sure you understand already.

needless to say, it felt very good to be back.

as a final celebration of the trip, i had bought a ticket to see darwin deez, a generally and specifically indie musician i’ve admired for… maybe eight years, now? since before his second album, certainly. this concert was actually the second thing i booked, after the intercontinental flights: the one that would take me there, and the one which now brings me back to the states. darwin’s music is kitschy and repetitive on the surface, but brilliantly written and deeply personal, and has held my hand through all of the shit i’ve seen these last several years. his most recent album, 10 songs that happened when you left me with my stupid heart, has been on repeat since its release on 31 august, and is a strong contender for my album of the year.

by the time i got into the venue after a very long queue which didn’t exist when i showed up 45 minutes previously, i found myself with a surprisingly good place near the stage. big thank you to the bar for drawing in the early crowd like siren song. the first openers showed up rather quickly (a norwegian alt-rock band called pom poko: seriously cool attitude, EXCELLENT guitar playing) and shortly after their second song began, i noticed someone dancing rather frenetically just behind my left shoulder, so i gave them a bit of space (everybody else was just warming up–had this guy just misjudged the energy of the room?). it wasn’t long before i started to notice the people just in front of me, lined up at the barrier, turning to glance back in surprise and… excitement? i turned and looked and darwin deez was jumping and flailing and spinning to the music, right next to me. no security or barriers or personal space. just dancing.

the energy and excitement in the room grew quickly as the guy we were all here to see jammed with us all.

second openers were alright, a small indie hip-hop band led by a very large and enthusiastic man. the music didn’t quite translate that enthusiasm, but before we knew it darwin and his band were onstage, fiddling with guitars and plugging in his macbook.

the show began in typical darwin deez fashion: a goofy, soulfully choreographed dance routine to somebody else’s music. as bands go, his is decidedly lanky and there was a beautiful freedom in seeing them have fun as a band, allowing–no, almost requiring–themselves to look ridiculous in the name of music. the prerecorded sound merged almost seamlessly as the quartet casually took their places on stage and segued into their first song.

there were two more dance breaks during the show, and one freestyle rap section. it was possibly the most fun, humanising thing that could happen on a stage. they played a good variety of music, including a couple of his sadder but no less heartfelt songs as well. bed space was followed immediately followed by chelsea’s hotel (extended to about nine minutes by impassioned guitar solos) and what began as misty eyes turned into wholehearted sobs. i wept in awe of what i had seen that night and the last 32, and i wept in heartbreak over the person i couldn’t help but care for over all that distance and through all those years and lengthy pauses, and in loss and in nostalgia and in glee and in dread of having to leave the very next morning.

before i knew it the show had ended and the encore had passed (radar detector, easily his best-known song), and i was stood near the merch booth with my new concert friends, generally trying to catch our breaths between ‘so goods’ and ‘ugh i know rights.’ bought a tee-shirt, got a free bonus cd, prepared myself for the walk back. but then darwin surprised everyone by hopping back to sign things and chat with everyone.

he was just as kind and awkward as he appears to be, and we had a pleasant little talk and a (mutually sweaty) hug.

by the time i returned to by room it was nearly midnight, and i fell asleep fully exhausted but a bit anxious.

this morning i woke up almost in mourning (ha.) and had to put in a fair effort to drag myself and my things out the door and away from the city i fell in love with. every step reminded me of what it took to get here. there were a couple of moments wherein, sat idle at a tube station, i felt that urge again to simply stand up and walk onto the platform (mind the gap) and miss my flight. i could always catch another, maybe in a few days’ time–but i knew that if i went that far i might not make it home at all, and i do not have what it would take (either the visa or the nerve to make myself a fugitive) to stay at this time.

but i promise you as i’ve promised myself: i will be back. no matter what it takes, i’ll get myself back someday soon, and when i do i know it will feel as though i never left.