Portishead

Picture, if you will, burrowing your way to the second row of the main stage at Coachella, and witnessing a fantastic set by Kraftwerk.

Then, then stage is set for Portishead to arrive, which they do clad in black. Black would also well describe the hearts on their sleeves. The anguish in the songs is clear from the pained expression visible on Beth Gibbons' face every time she pulls away from the mic.

I no longer remember every song they played, but there is a good sample from their three albums. I was personally quite surprised that they played "Sour Times", because I had the idea in their head that they didn't want to be defined by it, similar to how Radiohead never plays "Creep". The second album was well-represented by "All Mine" and "Wandering Star", at least.

In the background, the MASSIVE video screen played a collage of up-close shots of Beth singing, Adrian on guitar, and Geoff scratching, playing drums or keys. That is, until the last song, where the big P3 that graces the new album Third came out, and album centerpiece "We Carry On" started.

While with a strong enough beat that it could have dancefloor application, the lyrics are too dour, and the keys too tension-inducing to ever be used in a club. Then there's that guitar riff. It's great on record, but live, it's awesome to behold. After Beth finishes her vocals and the band starts tearing into the coda, she whips off her ear monitors. What the heck? Where's she going? She jumps off the stage, hops over the press barrier, and ... OH MY GOSH, SHE'S COMING TO THE AUDIENCE! She starts shaking hands and such to the left of me and moves away, so my attention returns to the stage, where Adrian is playing that massive riff like his life depends on it, and the rest of the band follows suit. Then the screams of the audience alert me that Beth is drawing near to where I stand. She looks radiant, smiling and happy to greet us all. But, both of her hands are occupied, so I do what any non-perverted Portishead fan would do: I pat her waist twice and yell, "LOVE YA, BETH!" And then turn around and high-five anyone standing near. And THEN send out the most fun txt message ever to the MOGachella group: "HOLY COW I JUST TOUCHED BETH GIBBONS' WAIST!!! SQUEE!!!"

As great as Prince was, I had to leave my second-row perch and chill out at the back of the stage for his show. SRSLY, what's going to top that?

Portishead

Hammersmith Apollo Theatre, London, April 2008 - Portishead

I've sweated and perambulated through the pits, fought manic revelers for my place at the front, hopped, jumped, sung loudly, reeled drunkenly, and madly howled with joy. I've soaked in gentle wafting tunes as I lay on the grass; basking in the sunlight. I've listened as I watched the moon rise over the landscape, closed my eyes and soared with the music, and passionately held onto a lover while listening to a shared song.

But none of it... absolutely none of it, compares to the moment I experienced at your show. I was standing there; simply standing and watching and listening when it hit me. There was a sudden tension and pressure that started at the top of my head and quickly built until if finally broke over me. The sensation was like the ice-cold fingernails of a lover lightly scratching down the back of my neck. You'd plaintively cried out during Sour Times, and it washed me in chills. Your voice, your passion. I will never forget.

Man or Astroman?

I was at a weekend music camping festival. This was more than a decade ago. I was young and invincible and partying as hard as I ever have. I was about 40-feet back from the stage pushing toward the stage during the Man Or Astroman performance, loving life, surrounded by friends, enjoying a mighty fine time... when out of nowhere I was thwapped soundly in the temple with a hard object, knocking my contact right out of my left eye and (luckily) into my lightning-flash reflex of an up-turned palm.

I knew what had hit me before I bent to look at the plastic-wrapped snack 'cake' now lying on the ground at my feet. It was a Little Debbie Star Crunch and Man or Astroman were known for tossing the snacks into their crowd during live shows.

"OW!" I shouted as I howled with laughter at the same time, friends crowding close to make sure I was all right. "My contact!" I held my palm out to show them just as my beautiful friend Stacy produced a bottle of Visine from her back pocket.

I hosed down the contact lens and reapplied it to my eye as we were surging back up front without missing two beats. They say "the show must go on".. and it did. And it was a good, good time.

Thanks for the munchies, Man Or Astroman! I'll never forget it!

Genesis

"The way I see it, the word is made up of two kinds of people. People who get the euphoric bliss that comes along with experiencing the really amazing live musical moments...and those who don't. Those who don't aren't bad people, they just aren't my people. I want to spend as much time as I possibly can while I am here with the people who get it.

Remember the time I fell off the stage at the Girl Talk show? Remember the time that guy fell trying to climb a fence after the REM show? Remember when Pearl Jam covered Elvis in Vegas? Remember when Evan Dando was so hammered that he dropped his guitar and ran up the stairs of the Troubador , mid song? Remember that Hold Steady show on St Patrick's day when the guitar player played that killer solo from on top of the stacked amps? Remember that insane Teddybears set at Coachella? Remember standing too close to the speaker at the Afghan Whigs show and not being able to hear for a week? Or how about the time we snuck into Little Brothers to see Sleater-Kinney? I do."

- The Swill Merchant

I do too. If you have a precious concert memory that you would like to preserve for the ages (or until the Blogger servers get nuked, whichever comes first), send it to flashbulbmoments@gmail.com. Your confidentiality, if desired, is assured.

I'll start by posting (or rather, cross-posting from mog.com) some of my favorites from my own personal stores, just to get things rolling.