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Quote :: @breadsticat6264

5 months ago (edited)

I was there at their infamous show in Detroit in late 1987. I was flown there with a head journalist from the paper I was aspiring to work at, as I had won a sweepstakes of sorts amongst the other interns to go with him to watch their performance. Originally we were supposed to get special reserved seating, but a group of some rather intimidating teen delinquents must have bribed their way into our spot. We ended up having to watch quite a ways towards the back in the cheap seats. They kept the crowd waiting some 45 minutes after the show was scheduled to start, and there was this air of angst and tension that I will never forget. The whole concert hall was hot, dim, with a heavy scent of beer and weed lingering in the air. Despite the place being packed to the brim, there was this terrifying silence, as if everyone was holding their breath.

I will never forget the collective gasp and change in energy when the curtains finally opened. Simon stood awkwardly with his guitar strapped to his chest standing completely motionless, resembling a cardboard cutout. Theo was obviously tripping on something strong, standing behind a meager setup of a small synthesizer and a drum machine. Alvin stood between them for a moment, took in the crowd, and then clumsily stepped forward towards the mic. He looked rough. His fur was matted, his signature red hoodie stained and torn. Then, in perfect unison, Simon and Theo started playing, and the set began.

As they began to play ( believe it was a cover of "Always On My Mind"), I couldn't help but be held in awe at their sound. The slow, murky, psychedelic sound of Simon's sludgy guitar. The desolate, hollow, eerie sound of Theo's synth. And the unforgettable sound of Alvin's voice, which sounded so utterly racked with emotion that even the journalist that I was with, who was anything but a sentimental guy, looked misty eyed as he watched. And when they all harmonized and sang together, it gave a feeling that I can't describe and I haven't felt since then. Like all the sadness, all the pain, all the pressure felt by young adults back then (and indeed, now) all perfectly given an identity through sound, all released at once in the form of sonically imperfect music that somehow sounded flawless.

Admittedly, it was extremely difficult to hear the finer details of the band, so I hardly noticed Alvin's extremely slurred words or Theodore playing offkey. However, halfway through their set, as they were about halfway through "You Keep Me Hanging On", I will never forget what happened. Alvin stopped singing for a moment, looked to the back of the concert hall, and froze. He then continued to sing, but I swear from where I stood it looked like he was watching a ghost. Then, I swear I saw a crooked smile stretch across his face for a moment before he collapsed on stage. The entire crowd gasped as the music abruptly stopped. Simon and Theodore ran over to try and help him up. I remember seeing how pained and labored Alvin's sides looked, as if each anguished breath took a huge amount of effort. They crouched over him, trying to revive him, but Simon soon ran backstage to get more help. Theodore just stared at Alvin, a look of stone-cold, sober agony on his face. How he must have felt, seeing his own brother dying. Soon, Simon returned with a beefy roadie, who picked up Alvin and quickly ran him backstage.

At that, the journalist I was with jumped up and pushed himself through the crowd, which was now going absolutely berserk. I followed him as best I could, trying to weave through the sweaty bodies of a thousand reeking, screeching teens. When I finally made it to the front, I showed my ID card to security, who were doing their best to keep the crowd back. They let me through, and as I ran up the stage and through the backdoor, I made it just in time to see the ambulance carrying Alvin speed away. Simon was gone, apparently riding in the ambulance with Alvin. But Theodore stayed behind. I will never forget how hollow his eyes were. I couldn't bare to look at him, the look of crushing agony and defeat that he had. He knew it was all over. Their fame. Their fortune. Their band. Their family. Destroyed. Forever.

After I made it back to New York City with the journalist I had gone with, I resigned. I wasn't the same person after experiencing what had happened that night, and I haven't been since. I still throw on my old Chipmunks vinyl from time to time, chasing after that old feeling I felt when I heard them for the first time. But there was one thing about that night that still keeps me awake, one thing above all else that will follow me until the day that I die.

As Alvin lay there on the stage, fighting for his every breath. As he was hauled away on the back of that roadie. As they drove him away inside of that ambulance. Even as he drew his last breath.

He never stopped singing. Not once. And his final words?

"Set me free."