More Angel Hunting in the 5 Boroughs (Brooklyn) Angel Olsen

I’m getting a jump on my angel hunting, beginning with Angel Olsen at Brooklyn Steel last night, opening up a broader interpretation of this I’ve decided annual series. It is hard to resist.

I am extremely choosy with who I see live these days. If you would tell the teenager and twenty-something I used to be that in adulthood I would only attend one show per calendar year she’d likely sneer in disappointment as she did about so many other things. But up front, surrounded by people, I remembered what power it had had in my youth. Being within a large body of folks who share the value of authenticity, who crave emotion as a medium, those with a fine-tuned sensibility—all special as they are rare. The absence of this commonality with folks, in general and everyday in multiple arenas, is isolating and discouraging. My teenage self would say “People suck.” To which I respond to her, “They still do and in more varied and complex ways. But then there are those who don’t. Those whose existence compensates for 20 or 30 dribs at least.” Then I’d quote Kerouac, who was on her bookshelf but she never read.

The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow Roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes “Awww!”

Jack Kerouac 

Angel is a Roman candle exploding like spiders across the stars. And she helps me feel okay for having a heavy and burdensome heart. A heart that I am convinced no other person will ever deserve. Perhaps a dog or a cat or a child in the foster care system. Perhaps. But I was so delighted when Angel spoke about her own relationship predicament bluntly in one of her many witty anecdotes between songs. She said that she likes herself too much to date anyone. I feel exactly the same. Quite simply and not as a rationalization nor a challenge, no one deserves us. We’re “self-partnered,” a term Emily Watson put out there in the news recently. When you ponder the rich and layered depths of self, the term ceases to be an oxymoron. Is being alone an evolution? Yes, when you consider the norms involved in mainstream courtship and commitment. Ok, this might be a separate blog post… but Angel brought it up!

Know your own heart well
It’s the one that’s worth most of your time
Know your own heart well
You could be surprised at what you find

Sometimes you’re sent an Angel. And you cherish her… in the only way you can without being escorted out by security. By taking pictures.

Ma girl

It was her last New York show and I was so happy she encored despite previous evenings. She belted out most songs with her band, then hit the grand piano on her own. I got lost in the range of her voice.

Of course she played Shut Up Kiss Me. And I recorded it. I know, I know. So millennial-y of me. Gross. But this is the song that introduced me to her, though it was 2014’s Burn Your Fire for No Witness that I first became obsessed with.

The opening act also was amazing, singer Madi Diaz.

Here’s to beautiful banged women with even more beautiful ideals. ✊ Like MC Hammer says–You can’t touch this.

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