So how did I really like my first concert at the Sphere? I’m going to tell you the truth: the visual spectacle, arguably the defining characteristic of the whole place, was not for me. Sometimes, when the images became ride-like, a bird in flight dipping between trees, I had to turn my back for fear of vertigo. Otherwise, I took in the visual show transactionally, like flashcards. That’s Trey’s barn in Vermont (so I was told), that’s an ornate, gold-leafed pattern that reminds me of the Yeezus tour, that’s a retro video game simulation that evokes nostalgia for people who played those games. Then it all faded to background status. A screensaver to me, that was captivating everyone else.
Hmmm. What is wrong with me, I wondered. Is my inability to integrate sounds and visuals a feature or a bug (haha, what can I say, I was with a lot of VC’s)? Or had I simply not eaten enough mushrooms?
At some point I was rooting in my purse for lip balm and found my tightly folded printout. It was a physical reminder to support a new ritual: reciting a prayer aloud, once a day. Like a rosary, I had infused that ordinary paper with meaning. I held it in my hand amazed that something so plain could barge into the grandeur of that moment. As designed, it whispered: Hi, remember me? I’m here to remind you to read your prayer. You forgot, but this is something you really, truly want to do.
What to do then? I was surrounded by many people. It wasn’t the right place or time to say a prayer. But I was determined to meet my 21 day goal. I had attempted this three times before. I tried to convince myself there would be a better time, later. A bathroom door I could lock for 3+ minutes. Or right before bed. But what if I didn’t go to bed before midnight? Then the spell would be broken.
I snuck into the empty lobby, my wrinkled paper, me and the staff. I looked down at the open LED lit spaces, noticed the air quality, which seemed perfect and fresh. I thought of waiting in line at Space Mountain, a few inches short of the height requirement, filled with anticipation about whether I’d have the courage to get on the ride. I turned my back to the concert hall and read the prayer slowly, aloud.
When I returned, there was an energetic shift in the group. The “true believers” -- the Phish fans -- were emanating exuberance that wasn’t there earlier. I wanted to join them but I wasn’t sure how. I knew I had to move my body, actively listen, close my eyes, go dark so I too could see the show. Rudolf Steiner, the founder of the Waldorf method, believed pictures impeded the development of the young mind’s imaginative faculties. So said the guide that day, on the school tour where there were conspicuously no books. The halls were dim, hushed. The wood was creaking. The children were obedient and small. Intriguing concept, but my kid had already fallen in love with picture books. Especially the big ones that personified construction vehicles, and cheetahs, dust jackets long gone, corners tattered.
For one part of one jam, time collapsed and it worked. I was on the ride. But when I opened my eyes, doubt stood beside me again. I kept thinking, why are the visuals fucking with me when they dazzle everyone else?
Now it was the encore. My friend said there would be only one “song” and told me interesting things I couldn’t hear. A wave of optimism, a desire to dance took over. I thought about clubbing. Trainspotting. Berghain. Berlin. Then that Bowie-Eno record that is so bleak, haunted, demented but has that one warm break: A New Career in a New Town.
Now that I’ve looked it up, it turns out that astral travel can happen when you’re awake: “Astral travel is the experience of your consciousness or awareness leaving your physical body and moving through other places or planes of existence, while your body stays where it is. It’s often described as feeling like you’re traveling as a separate ‘subtle body’ — you might perceive your surroundings, distant locations, or non-physical realms, then return to your body afterward. It's commonly associated with deep meditation, lucid dreaming, or spontaneous out-of-body experiences.”
What a trip .
Photo: Alive Coverage / Juliana Bernstein / Taylor Wallace via Phish Facebook