Jonny Numb

Two types of anxiety wash over me whenever I head out to see a live show:

1. The excited anxiety (read: “good” anxiety) of seeing a performer/band do their thing in front of an audience, feeling the literal reverberations of the music, and syncing to the collective mood of those gathered to see said performer/band; and
2. The anxiety that I could very well die during the drive to the venue.

In combining #2 with depression and laziness, I’ve flaked on my fair share of shows over the years. When you’re a solo weirdo who isn’t averse to heading to Baltimore or Philly for a live show, self-motivation becomes a hugely important factor.

As with anything else, adopting a rhythm and regularity aids in motivation. Having not seen a major live show in over 2 months (Vision Video at Baltimore’s Metro Gallery) had me questioning whether it was worth the effort to see Suki Waterhouse at Union Transfer in Philly.

I’d secured my ticket last fall, after spending no small amount of time listening to her debut LP, I Can’t Let Go.

I’ve made the trip to Philly and UT so many times, I can probably do the drive without a GPS (though I still use my antiquated Tomtom as a creature comfort), but I always reflect on the stress of the drive once I exit the relative comfort of the PA Turnpike and make my way into the city proper.

As my late father often reminded me: “The Schuylkill is one of the deadliest roads in the country.“

On The Schuylkill Expressway, people ride full up on your ass; people get impatient, shifting in and out of lanes without warning; the lanes are tight; and the shoulder – such as it is – is buffered by a cliffside where there’s ample truth to the “Falling Rock” sign.

In recent years, I’ve started driving like an old man, leaving a wide berth between myself and the car in front of me. This is more out of self-preservation than anything; I’ve gotten to a point where, no matter how smooth traffic is flowing, I just know the brake lights in front of me will go off suddenly as things slow to a crawl.

Note that this is the drive in. Leaving the city, while stressful in its own right, is a cake walk (drive?) by comparison.

In any event, I made it into Philly without incident, securing my usual free parking spot in a sketchy area about 3 blocks from UT.

Once inside, I felt like a bit of an anomaly. Based on looks alone, I imagine I superseded the age of most of the attendees by a good 2 decades. But as someone who’s seen Paramore in concert multiple times, this wasn’t an altogether weird scenario.

I’ve long abandoned the notion of caring what people think about me when I go see live music (the “am I dressed properly, according to some arbitrary standard determined by the ‘cool’ kids?!” conundrum), and don’t need to pound overpriced beers to mellow out my anxiety. I’m there to take in an experience, and perhaps age has helped purge my mental real estate of all that space that used to be occupied with Strangers’ Expectations.

UT runs a pretty tight ship, and opening act Blondshell started around 8. I don’t recall an opener ever eliciting such wild cheers of approval from a crowd, such vocal enthusiasm, but for some reason…they did. I enjoyed the instrumentation, but the lead singer’s slouchy, lay-on-the-floor, faux-disaffected manner kept me from connecting with the set overall, even when the lyrics turned serious. In some ways, I was reminded of the apathetic performance Best Coast put on when I saw them at UT years ago.

That said, a live-music first (for me, anyway) happened while they were in the midst of a Cranberries cover: someone in the audience fainted, and they stopped the show while a nurse in the crowd and venue security helped the person out of the room.

Suki Waterhouse and her band took the stage just after 9, and I again felt like an alien in human skin as the crowd – or at least the contingent taking up the front half of the pit – raised their cell phones to capture the arrival of their alternative goddess.

I’ve attempted to take pictures/video at live shows, but I am so shit at it that I’ve just given up.

If the crowd went wild for Blondshell, they lost their collective shit for Suki. I couldn’t help but smile and laugh to myself at the excitement – hell, the youthful vigor – reverberating through the attendees.

I first became aware of Waterhouse through Ana Lily Amirpour’s sci-fi/horror hybrid, The Bad Batch. I became a of fan of her presence in movies, even if I didn’t like the movies themselves (see also: Assassination Nation and Seance). That said, she’s quite good in the period mashup Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, and Mary Harron’s Charlie Says. When I heard she’d released an album, I gave it a go out of sheer curiosity, and wound up enjoying it.

Backed by a very capable band, Suki slinked around the stage and used body language to complement her soulful singing. With a discography consisting of only an LP and EP (Milk Teeth), the performance was a little over an hour, which felt just right. And, frankly, I’m thankful when a show wraps early, for the sake of my feet and the drive home.

Something that made the night very much worth the stress of driving into Philly was this: a modicum of fame can turn some people into unbearable egomaniacs. While Suki started off as a model (and yes, she’s even more beautiful in person), and starred in (largely offbeat) movies before dipping her toes in music, she had an incredibly humble demeanor before the wailing, adoring crowd. She was left speechless more than once with the outpourings of affection, and stated that the show was her favorite so far on this inaugural tour.

And I’ll be goddamned if the live rendition of this didn’t send chills down my spine…

(Featured image from Seance (2021)