Forget the coronavirus for a few minutes, and come back with me…

I grew up in the Sixties, saw The Beatles on the Ed Sullivan Show, the night before my 10^thbirthday, along with 73 million other people. I spent most of my early teenage years with my little transistor radio glued to my ear (it was about the size of my smart phone, but a little thicker). The Beatles went in their direction, and I wandered away. Married in my twenties, we lived briefly in California where I listened to a progressive rock radio station that introduced me to Elvis Costello, Patti Smith, Joan Jett, the Cars, but then we moved again, to northern Maine where the only radio station that appealed to me was public radio. I listened to classical music in the mornings every day, Morning Pro Musica with Robert J. Lurtsema. And then somewhere along the line, even that stopped.

So I was musicless until 2018. Never went to a concert of any type—well, Arthur Fiedler and the Boston Pops came to my hometown while I was in high school; Teresa Stratas, a star singer with the Metropolitan Opera also visited and my mother, desperate to hear her, took me along. And then there was Weird Al, maybe ten years ago, with my daughter. But that’s it. Nothing else. I recall sitting on the stairs in my father’s house, knowing the Monkees (or was it the Beatles? Hard to know, it was so long ago) were in Boston—but that was so far away, and when I was a kid, there was no money for such things.

Fast forward—it’s 2017, and my daughter, Kristin, is fascinated with a band—a Dutch band. The band hadn’t toured in 4 years, and she’d missed them that time, so she said, “Hey Mom, how about we go see Within Temptation? They’re touring again.” “Where?” “Europe”. This of course gave me pause, but  life had changed over the last few years: my husband and I had been traveling a lot; I’d spent a few months in the Netherlands on my own; and a milestone birthday was approaching for my daughter. After some further thought, I agreed.

What had I done? I’m going to the Netherlands to see a symphonic metal band. I don’t even know what that is. My daughter insisted we buy tickets immediately—“They will sell out fast!” A few days later, “I also snagged VIP tickets,” she told me.  Now I am not only going to a metal concert, but I am also going to meet the band. What have I done? Did I mention I was 64 years old at the time? 

With the tickets bought so far ahead, I had time to do my homework, but procrastinator that I am, it was Fall 2018 before I got some CDs and started listening. My daughter had actually played some of the band’s music on a road trip to Maine a few years earlier, so a couple of songs were actually familiar. I asked her about mosh pits—were those a thing to worry about? Not with this band, she assured me. I knew metal music only from headlines and that whole Walmart-banning-explicit-lyrics-thing that happened a while back.

November arrives, and shortly after Thanksgiving, we arrive in Groningen, Netherlands. Our hotel is next to the venue, Martini Plaza. In the evening, we scope it out, make sure we know where to show up for the VIP thing.

On concert day, we appear in the venue lobby, and wait. A small group of others, mostly from around Europe, are also there, and we chat. Most have been following Within Temptation for years, like my daughter.

Then we enter the hall where we will first listen to sound check. The singer, Sharon den Adel, is there, soon joined by the other band members. She is dressed in jeans and a comfy jacket and leggings, and she’s tiny, and when she sings, her voice is pure, beautiful, but I understand she is not turning it all on right now, not yet. They come down from the stage, to chat and take pictures. It all feels so natural, strangely ordinary. Ruud Jolie, lead guitarist, says to me, “You’ve never been to a concert and you decide to come to Netherlands to see us as your first?” Yes, indeed!

Following a tour of the backstage area, we take up our spots on the railing in the hall, and wait. Now the waiting is hard. My old feet are feeling it (we—perhaps foolishly—had walked into Groningen in the morning, not wanting to waste a minute.) Tech people are puttering around on the stage. Someone is tuning a guitar—“Is that one of them?” I ask my daughter. “No, just a techie.” Then the lights go down. A momentary hush.

Guitars scream, the bass pounds. Ego Kill Talent takes the stage, wild and crazy, leaping about, stomping, guitars driving, lights flashing from all angles. The music surges through me, like a tsunami, pounding, vibrating my body like I’ve never felt before. I am alive! I can feel it! I have never felt so alive!

Again the lights go up, again we wait, but now everyone is impatient, watching watches, checking phones. At last Within Temptation takes the stage—drummer, keyboardist, guitarists, and finally, Sharon emerges, and the crowd goes wild. Her voice is perfect, and she is radiant. I am teary-eyed. I cannot believe I am here.

I am so close to the stage that I can watch Ruud’s hands on his guitar, I can tell the notes he is playing. The lights are flashing, smoke is pouring from the stage like eruptions, jet blasts, contrails spraying from the floor. The drums—oh, the drums! The pounding is going right through me. I feel the music, and when Sharon sings the lyrical bit at end of Raise Your Banner, my heart is in my throat.

I knew from that moment there is no going back to silence.