So concludes my woefully inadequate account of Summer Darling’s 2010 North American tour opening for Ok Go. So many more stories exist—tour is at once a time of terrible inertia and extreme action, of crushing boredom and exhilarating experience, a time that emphasizes the true absurdity and beauty and fragility of what being alive is all about. At a bar in Albuquerque last night, the same bar we played 15 days earlier, we sat around our booth silently sipping whiskey, looking around us, not really talking until Dan observed that everything felt different.
Without getting too pretentious, because at some level it’s easy to call bullshit and pull the cord on this whole fucker we call being “in a band” and “making music,” the four of us in Summer Darling are wholly changed, irreparably other, for better and for worse. We’ve reached the beginning of an entirely new set of parameters, a place with different rules and anxieties, a place where we are reborn into a set of infinite problem sets where we know nothing, where we exist naked and alone awaiting the next light to come along to guide us to some sort of peace and growth. Simultaneously, from this frightening unknown place comes a certain acceptance of conquering everything that has come before. We are now at the precipice of everything known to us and for once I am excited to take that next step, whether it leads to falling or flying or, if this tour has taught me anything, most likely it will lead to a bittersweet combination of both.
Thank you for following us along our way.
And for all the grammatical errors, as our friendly neighbors to the north say (including 15 times in one minute at Tim Horton’s), “Sorry about that.”