An exercise in solitude

In my first year at Duke, I was terrified of separating from the collective freshmen conglomerate. Orientation week activities and dorm bonding helped the class feel like a cohesive whole. While in retrospect these events solidified friendships and brought forth new experiences, at the time I felt artistically suffocated by this ever-present community. Maybe this feeling of entrapment was a result both of my naivety to the validity of my own interests and tastes and my shyness that kept me from seeking out people who shared them. This stifling culminated in my attendance of a Macklemore concert. Despite your opinion on the artist, he was never a rapper I was into. Did I enjoy spending time with new friends and partaking in a shared experience? Sure. Was it worth sixty dollars and two hours of Macklemore? I think not.

Last Thursday I did the complete opposite: I went by myself to a concert to see a band that I love. Although at first I thought attending the show alone might be a completely lonely, desolate experience, I found branching out into Durham to celebrate a band with strangers was a deeply satisfying night that freed me from the Duke bubble.  

I decided to walk to the venue from my apartment. In the beginning of my walk I had quite the time, jamming to the band’s music and imagining the absolute magnificence that awaited me. Things started to become strange, though, once I entered the downtown area. In leaving the Duke environment I was treading into an unfamiliar expanse. In the evening light I perceived shadows twisting into figures, and figures fading into the darkness. Then a friend passing by in his car saw me, picked me up and dropped me off at the venue, so that was nice of him.

While approaching the bar where the concert was located I felt the same sense of unease. Strange figures loomed in front of the doorway, blocking my entrance. When they came into the light, though, I realized they were just music nerds in flannel. I passed by uneventfully.

Once inside the venue I was hit with the gloriously pummeling doom metal of a local band called the Solar Halos. I immediately felt at home. The bass loomed as the guitar oozed out of the speakers and drums accentuated rhythms to bring order to the wall. Although many people would probably find this form inharmonious or simply bizarre, I was totally digging it. Even better was that I didn’t have to worry about whether my friends liked it or not. Whenever I take people to a concert or show them new music, I feel like every aspect of the art reflects on me. Here, it was just me and the noise.

Actually, though, there was also a crowd of about one hundred people there to see the main act, The Screaming Females. The crowd itself offered a feel of communal exuberance as people bobbed to the music, cheered at onstage displays of excellence and even held up the guitarist when she decided to do a solo while crowd surfing. A cake also went crowd surfing. More interesting, though, were the individual interactions I had with strangers there. Before the main act I had a conversation with a girl who loved the band and had seen them many times before. As she voiced her excitement I realized that I was about to witness something special.

The concert was, in fact, very awesome. The guitarist is known for her nifty finger work, and she did not hold back. Although her solos were mostly the same as those on the recorded studio versions, it was really amazing to see her play in person. The bassist loomed over the stage, sending thundering rhythms through the bar. In the back the drummer drove the song onward and kept the crowd bouncing. The venue shook. It is safe to say The Screaming Females lived up to their name, as the guitarist howled and reverberated across the room. By the end of the night I was sweaty, exhausted, and happy.

Although I enjoy reliving this experience, my main point in recounting this adventure is that it’s possible to experience the artistic wonders of Durham completely by yourself, without being hindered by the opinions of friends or the gargantuan, inanimate force that is the Duke bubble. I regret not exploring Durham more thoroughly in my first two years at Duke. Who knows what experiences I may have missed out on?

It’s not too late, though, for the new freshman class. I suggest you make a priority of seeking out your artistic interests in the Durham area. Especially for those who wish to perform or create, the real world offers much more worthwhile opportunities for artistic development than the artificial environment Duke has created for us. With that, I leave you to your adventuring.