Yesterday I went to the concert of Bat for Lashes in Brussels. I was so excited to finally see one of my youth heroines. The night started of great due to the supporting band, Race Horses. I’d only heard two songs of them on Youtube before I left to catch my train so I didn’t know what to expect, but they were awesome. The singer was wearing a black velours trouser suit that I suspect to be a woman’s outfit, but o well, dressing up for stage should be obligatory anyway. The band from Cardiff managed to get the crowd in the right pumped up state and showed a sincere gratitude for the enthusiasm.
After waiting for more than half an hour (aw, my feet), Natasha and her band entered the stage under a loud applause and a trembling excitement. The members of the band were all dressed in white, as if they were part of a cult, and Natasha was wearing a brown and white striped long dress with a naked back. She looked like a female druid, ready to put a spell on us. Which she then did, over and over again. Mixing old songs with new ones, dancing in all the corners of the stage, and using her pure and powerful voice; the audience felt part of their cult.
I don’t want to put any negativity in this post, because the performance was beautiful and magical, but I just can’t ignore my irritation caused by some disrespectful “super fans”. You were wearing warrior feathers in your hair, so I should have known you weren’t coming in peace, but little naïve me still thought you were just dressed up for Bat to show her how much you liked her music and personal style. I couldn’t have been more wrong. First, you all, one by one, leaned on my good friend before the show started. Leaning on strangers is weird, I’m sorry. Lean on your own friends. Then, once the show had started, you – with your near naked women-bodies – danced right into our personal space. We’re in Belgium, people. Belgians are prude, we enjoy our privacy and don’t like to be touched by strangers or even people we don’t know too well. I understand you want to dance to Bat’s tunes, I do too, but don’t slap my face with your arms filled with bracelets. And dance in the same rhythm as everyone else is dancing, please. My rhythm isn’t great either, but I managed to stay in my own space, so why didn’t you? And I understand you want to sing along, again, I do too, but don’t scream the lyrics into my ear. I’m sure you know all the words, but you don’t have to prove it to me by shouting, roaring and crying them into my ears, thank you. When Bat was singing Laura, the room became silent. Everyone was listening with full concentration and enjoying this sweet and emotional ballad. Except for you, “super fans”, you had to express your emotions out loud. Of course you did. How would you like it if you were standing on stage, showing yourself in your most vulnerable and emotional state of being and some arrogant girls in the audience were talking out loud while you’re pouring your heart out? Seriously?
Anyway, you were annoying, I could go on for several lines, but I’m not willing to let you spoil this experience for me. Next time, stand somewhere else.
Natasha, you’re a Goddess, your band is the best, and your supporting band rules. Thank you for this wonderful evening. Brussels was the last stop of your European tour so now it’s time to rest and reload, and then make another wonderful record.
Discovery of the evening.
She can dance, o yes she can.