Daybreak

The song that goes the hardest on the most recent album is Summer of Luv.

Absolute anthem! Perfect tune for the season, for every summer to come. When my favorite band cleverly titled their tour Winter of Summer of Luv, I was thrilled to see the lineup throughout the East Coast. Looks like the kickoff show is in New Haven, Connecticut, just outside of NYC, on a Sunday night. Score, we’re there.

I saw on twitter once the band played a super cute venue in Washington DC, a room with a 450 person capacity. It was called The Atlantis. I continue looking online, the livenation ticket sales website. The tour had a stop there! How close we’d all be, and how homey it would feel. I purchased tix. But! Come to find out the night of the show, upon arrival, the venue wasn’t The Atlantis. It was called The Anthem. Mixup. We had actually already seen them at this concert hall two Winters ago on that tour with Alt-J. Nonetheless, the fun persisted.

Then I see the most important date on the whole tour appear across my sight. A New Jersey booking! This was on the very first day tickets for the tour were released. The time was 10:15am: i spent 7 mins on livenation getting New Haven, and 7 mins getting DC. Going to get in at the renowned Asbury Park venue, I was stopped; tickets sold out in 15 minutes! How sad. Alright, I’ll settle for two shows in February. 

   

The day before our New Haven show, an email from the concert organizers informed me and all ticket holders that the show is postponed. Apparently the band was sick. I wasn’t disappointed because I see them as friends changing plans more than entertainers calling out of work. Refunds were available, but otherwise, the show would go on Tuesday night of that week. My free schedule easily penciled them for later. When it was time, we got in road trip mode for a 3 hour drive there and then back home following the performance. Dinner in town, and we’re set.

I was wearing a Yellow beanie hat. To denote my deep affection for Yellow from Purple Yellow Red and Blue. A guaranteed song you’ll hear at every show. We stood behind just one couple in front of us, who were on the railing, and the gurl was so kind to me, like, 

“Omigosh i love your coat! You can hang it on the railing in front of me if it’s more comfortable for you.”

I graciously accepted her offer. Ready to groove.

The opening band was from Philadelphia! A brass funk band named Snacktime. We originally caught them as Portugal.’s openers, in Philly, for that show last summer, the one following Radio City Music Hall. From that, they were booked at every stop on this tour. They’re very upbeat and exciting musicians. 

Eric came on, and said their sickness was subsiding. I care about their health and wellness; and admire mind over matter in overcoming less than ideal conditions. An indigenous tribe of CT did their thang, and the show was in full swing.

In typical fashion of my audience stylings, I induced a meditative trance attuned with the music. For my glee and healing purposes. The sickness was in both a us, man. The date was mid-Feb, and my then partner and i did nothing but fight since the start of the New Year. The nice party we shared at twin oaks ringing in 2024 was the last enjoyable memory for us. We just fell south and sour and were unwilling to repair what we both didn’t wanna do any more. 

It was everything - the damn lifestyle taking a toll on us, doing this ridiculous distance and open thing for years. Our relationship was reliably this - half the time good, and half the time terrible. Pretty smooth cruise, laced with toxicity. Plus, it was the hibernation from our balloon business, with the next season neither of us looking forward to, after having too many hard times with it. With Balloons, 50% of the time it’s a neat and lucrative entrepreneurship. And 50% of the time, it's a stressful session of an annoying job. He’s an overpowering mean manager and I'm his talent, doing double the twisting (he could only make 5 out of 8 of our designs, and wasn’t a real artist, but a cheap thrill producer). Often I was embarrassed. This guy never had a job in his life, let alone the ability to work with children, so I had to protect my loyal customers from how foreign and strange he showed himself to be. I am the kind customer service quality, while he barks at everyone trying to rush the process to get more dollars. We really had to quit, because while I love balloon art for a very specific reason, my heart was not in it for this manifestation of it. If our main activity together was this, and this turned out to be out of question due our irreconcilability on running showbiz, that’s all folks.

The most important moment of all my portugal. the man shows happened here. I must admit, i am at all the places i am, there too: find myself kinda on autopilot sometimes. It’s when i'm a bit disconnected from the setting, and my thoughts are preoccupied with whatever else going on with me outside this concert hall walls. Im not out of touch with my love of being there, but my mode of consciousness gets into how it would be when im regularly living. Like, im about as immersed in the experience as i am when im operating normally. Basically just a tad of adhd. Tho, im always reeled back into it, with alert and awakened senses. It’ll be a song where I'm listening to it like background music driving, then a wave sweeps me in the next song where im full on moved to hands up and singing quietly. Much like the roller coaster of life itself, i float in and out here just as naturally as everywhere else.

So, im there, about a three fourths of the way through the amazing show. Having fun, and sort of feeling like i'm going through the motions. That’s when the couple standing in front of us left the show early. The band already played Feel It Still, and it was a postponed Tuesday getting late, so i understood. Hence, i moved right up, beside my coat on the railing. I was in the direct presence of John & Zoe. And it was extremely sensible. Like i entered their sphere. Like i was in their Sea of Air. A mild telepathic fusion. 

Never had i been this close; i’d been in the pit, in the VIP section, in the center but behind many, on the far right/left behind few but out of sight from those on stage. My yellow hat, complimenting John’s yellow poof-ball one, a mere upward footstep apart, looked damn good on us.

Now this is where the best part occurs. My body got warm. I lit up internally. For the first time in my life, this was a feeling of love. I’ve gotten butterflies in my stomach; i write bunches of poetry on love; i’ve had chemicals from sex; but this, this was a sensation new to me. A different kind of love than i’d known. Love I know is the words of my family; love i know is pleasant friendships; love i know is the commitment i energized with my bf. This air-hug between J & Z and me was a raw and unique encounter of Luv. One defined by someone living in my story with the band, and the characters starring in it physically vibrating to me in a way much closer than their vibrations from my youtube views and car radio. The substance of my human depth met theirs, and felt equalized. I felt full, energetically, my persistent latent yearning became absent, and the sickness my partner soaked me in was lifted. I never admired anyone the way I do this band, so this moment became a bodily high.

The last quarter of the show was freakin’ bomb yo. Mindful of looking cool, i kept a subtle vibe for my heroes hovering closely. At the end, we rolled out, and got into the car for a drive back home to sleep. That

is when shit hit the fan.

It’s a blur, but it started because i was talking about the concert highlights like a normal fan afterwards, when pax just started being unbelievably stupid. I could tell, because of my own thoughts, that we were both lightly entertaining the idea that we might end things with each other, for like the past month. And so i could tell, that he was trying to pick a fight as ammo fueling this as perhaps our grand finale fight. Murdering my high.

It really wasn’t us, but The Universe, who paved the way for our ultimate parting. After spitting venom at me (im innocent this guy was all about using me as a target for releasing his whole life’s issues), both of our front tires blew out. This live action metaphor symbolized our own fallout.

We were stranded with popped tires on a roadside. We were fuming with one another. We managed to drive 10miles per hour to a closed gas station 2 miles away (lucky enough coulda been worse). We then called a lyft to drive us 15 mins to the closest hotel. That night, we agreed to break up. It should never be one person leaving the other carelessly; it should always be a mutual decision.

Knowing higher love in 20 minutes stage-front with John n Zoe, than the excuse for love my partnership was in 5 years, i was already on the other side of this break up. I instantly knew myself as free, a queen graduated from this chapter, and ready to move on from this whole lifestyle into a brighter future, without an ounce of grief or sadness. He wore his headphones to shut me out overnight, while I lay awake until 7am, when the gas station my car was at opened for the day.   

We checked out of the hotel and lyfted back to where we had to be. We looked up a tire replacement shop, who delivered used tires to flat ones stuck anywhere. They told us it would take about 3 hours for them to order the tires for us, go pick them up, drive to us, and do the work of changing the tires. Without alternative options, we agreed to do this. Then sat in that fuckin car for 3 hours bitching the shit out of each other. 

I learned a facet of humanness i didn’t want to to learn; we couldn’t stop. It was an addiction. He said something mean, i rebuttled, he replied, we just kept feeding and eating the cruelty up like junkies for hatred. I know from my resilience that positivity is contagious and habit forming. After that battle, and the whole damn war with my ex, I knew negativity is the same. These days, i am cautious to keep my brain on choosing joy, because a hop off into a bad spiral will diminish your spirits underground. Foremost vital, though, is making sure your presence is exclusive to places and people honestly valuing you. I recovered from a shitty partnership, as most have, with the wisdom to let it be in the past, and with lessons leading to the further enhancement of my spirits, in all their pure virtue.

We finally got back into my hometown after the unexpected collapse of our car, but perhaps the predictable ending for our togetherness. Leave me for the last time on your amtrak train, going back to your poor farm. We let Spot know - this is it. We’re done. We’re not a trio anymore. Visiting me on the weekends like a patient in a psych ward, or a fuckin babydaddy to their kid, we’re done. 

But. I still had two tickets to Saturday night in DC. I wanted to go alone. He wanted to go? Let’s agree this will be our last night together. Fine. Meet you there in a few days. 

Get this though! Friday night was the Jersey show, when the portuguese would be in Asbury Park at the Stone Pony, a famous place for the rock n roll scene in the 80s and even nowadays. Remember it sold out. However! Resale tix became available not from livenation, but from the Stone Pony team. In synchronicity, I got my tax return the day before, enabling my purchase of 1 ticket, double the original price, but ya can’t put a price on ya destiny!

Another tidbit was this - there was a volunteer organization, whose gig was to register people to vote at concerts. This org was going to be at the Stone Pony, and i saw they had a casting call for volunteers. I applied, and they rejected me. Until the day of the show, i get an email from the guy organizing voter registration, saying folks backed out last minute and i can volunteer tonight. Well, too late, im already volunteering as Myself~da~number~one~fangorl. Whether it’s a fortune or free, true lovers of the music will be there, exemplifying money ain’t shyt when it comes to living your best life.

I looked hot as always, dressing in my heavy denim jacket and black turtle neck dress, a classy ass punk lady. I told my ex im there, and will be pursuing my labor of luv with the band, replacing him.

 

Oh. My god! This night was the most fun I’d had with them since the first rodeo in Ventura. So the Stone Pony is a small restaurant without an official stage, so the floor the audience stood upon was the floor the band played upon. It was slammed, clearly sold out, people touching arms, and the room temperature turned very heated from the overflowing population… this, my friends, was a portugal. the man rave.

Snacktime got us all warmer-ed up. I think they covered a bruce springsteen song but i dont actually know his music, just the fact that the crowd was going nuts. It really was the climax between who i have been, and who i am becoming. I stood near the front, a pool of ppl in front of me, because i didn’t want to outshine my Tuesday night affair from mirroring them up close in person. This round, the heat, external from the space rather than internal my warmheartedness, was pulsating; esp bc we were all in winter outfits with no coat check. 

“We are… sweatin’ out this sickness.” John grinned in between songs.

Piercing pleasurable electric sound, everyone dancing, our singing as audible as the microphone vocalists - this show featured the best fans I’ve ever had the gratification to swim with. The vibe was all its own; wasn’t replicable in a college town theater like New Haven or a mainstream concert hall like DC - this relic spot truly embodied the spirit from the vivacious ‘80s scene it was known for. I’ll always cherish the “OW!!” i let out, subconsciously, like an O spilled out my mouth, at the outro of The Sun. Those closing notes have always been like good drugs for me, a surge of dopamine in the pleasing lil, “do-do-do-doo-doo”. It was a reaction, not a planned response, because i am still on boundaries with myself for being too loud at one of my rookie shows. A simile would be off-guard, leaked laughter. Hey - you got me, man ;)

They played for 2 hours and fifteen minutes. You may recall from a previous post, my anecdote about someone passing out onto the floor during the set. Here too, another man overboard, at this music party. This time, the band froze midplay of Someday Believers, cutting off the very vibe I feel the song is meant for - a sing-a-long for Faith. Huge dude in a security uniform scooped up our fallen comrade, and again, we desensitize a demise in the name of jamming on!

A fangirl with blue eyeshadow stood near me close to a big amplifier. Im polyamorous; there is no competition with my castmates. She had with her a painting. It was medium to slightly large in size. Obviously created by her talent with acrylic paints. The image was a portrait of John. His head, glasses, moustache, facial expression nailed excellently from a perspective of a fangirl seeing him as the man from the music. It was tinted cooly with shades of blues and purples and greens. She held it upward during a brief break in streamlining songs. She waved it lightly in the air. John took a few steps over, holding his guitar in one hand, and receiving the painting in the other. He smiled with eye contact to her. Her demeanor was selfless, and rang like appreciation for the power their music influenced upon her personally. It was a beautiful display of one pro artist to another, thanking each other for their respective efforts cycling creativity. The exact kind of connection I aim for in following this movement of inspiration by music. 

The painting became a wonderful stage decoration. I will say, I support Zoe from my perspective. There’s girls nationwide crushing on her husband. It must be difficult to deal with. I don’t know all the drama though. I once watched a documentary about Johnny Cash’s wife, u know him being away a lot being troublesome, plus their kids in the picture; maybe it’s dissimilar but one can imagine what it could be. Relationship nature can suck… what’s up? the men have options for the divine female, and the women are left to pick from any infamous man. Creeps in tshirts comment the music videos like, “uuhhg me hard for girl in band.” Feminism winning is changing things for the better, but it’s a long ferris wheel ride going around and around.      

After the show, i lurked around. Howdyyy, im single again! But no avail. An hour and half drive home, then i slept peacefully. The next morning i had brunch and made my way towards Washington DC, for the finale of this tour and the last night I would see paxus. We barely spoke to each other at dinner. Nothing left to say. Small talk about whatever, but we’re stalling our impending bid farewell. While I was exhausted at one previous concert from burnout in my daily life, it was at this concert that my soul was tired from 5 years with him. Before, it was my ego in weakened muscles; here, it was my soul fizzling itself vanished, in order to become reincarnated.

Something I love about the fanbase is how I’ve witnessed it in various regions of the world, and notice its diversity. What I see over time, perhaps particularly because of the Chris Black influence, is more people of color at shows in DC and Philly. You really can understand some of Portugal.’s style in a more hip-hop tonality in their latest material. Nothing about them can be considered full-on rap, but songs such as Mr. Lonely, What, Me Worry, So Young, Dummy, and others do play out to ring “less white” than their obvious alternative genre. I can tell these guys enter the studio, like, alright our goal is to make good music for everyone, let’s do this drumline with this synth and rhyme these words and cultural context together, and there we have it: a wide range of appeal, thus, more power for the people, a core factor in their pro-indigenous and anti-imperialism message licensing their swag.    

The show concluded. I dropped off my ex at the train and turned around back home. We spoke on the phone a few times since, about moving out our Dawg Spot from my house back down south where he came from. My pity for his reality, combined with my plans to blossom and bloom, would have me feeling reborn and ready for more suitable connections certainly in store for me. 

All and all, The Winter Of Summer Of Luv grades as a tremendous success. If it’s one thing about me, the funniest correlations occur: indeed, twas the season of love in myriads of manners. To be honest, love emerges wherein you quit passively preserving it & start aggressively dismantling it. Destruction IS a form of love. You reach a point where it’s apparent that specific loving is not enough and dissatisfying. So then, you gotta demolish the factors contributing to that. You realize your diminished capacity to see love is caused by falsehoods that love is a relationship. As you wake up, your narrow eyes in their naivety, widenhat you see life in its entirety through a lens of love. It is like an atmosphere, it’s not energetically tangible, so it’s not about holding on or letting go in one structure of partnership. It is not an equation of adding and subtracting, multiplying and dividing. You don’t calculate every seashell in the ocean and measure qualities to each; you simply comprehend the ocean, dive in, and float, encompassed in a state of being in love wholly. Yes love is in fact tied to people, and equally the case, love is independent from all things in its overall universal right.

Okie dokie blah blah all that jazz. I want this memoir to be about my music as much as it’s about my emotional inventory. No story about a OCD chick stalking musicians is any good; it is the content within the character entitling her fandom that makes a good story. Any fans of mine reading this: know that i love you all the same.