Well, the Ben Gibbard tour has come to an end and once more I find myself with an inevitable case of PTD (post-tour depression). But hey, I had an epic weekend in the great, grey Pacific Northwest seeing one of my favorite musicians. Totally worth it.
I got into Seattle on Friday and spent the morning wandering around my favorite city, killing time until about four when I decided it was acceptable to start a queue at the Showbox. I was the only one around when Ben walked up and I was so caught off-guard that I didn't even manage to say hi before he went inside. You would think that after so many shows and meeting so many musicians (including Ben!) I'd be better at playing cool, but I guess deep down I really am just a spastic fangirl.
After a lengthy wait, I finally got inside and claimed a spot in the front, as per usual. I thought it was ideal at first, and certainly I had a great view of Damien Jurado (who deserved better than to have half the crowd talk through his set), but after he left Ben's music stand was placed directly in my line of sight. Talk about no unobstructed view (pun, sorry!). I was a little bummed, but I was able to work with and around it pretty well. And I was also primely placed to ask for the setlist at the end of the show, so yea to that. And fucking yea to just getting to be there to hear Ben sing. Even though I'd heard him play most of the songs before, they still kill me. Every time.
The next day found me a little extra freaked out: I got a tattoo in the early afternoon and I had a meet and greet before the show at Washington Hall. The tattoo was less painful than I'd anticipated, but I could not *not* get flustered upon meeting Ben. It actually went kind of okay, I told him that I'd enjoyed the previous shows and he was super nice. But when I asked to take a polaroid with him and found out that I'd run out of film the last time I'd used camera and I'd neglected to bring a spare pack to boot, I got all crestfallen. I did get a regular photo at least (and hopefully I can get that polaroid at a future date). The show was a couple of hours later and once again it was amazing. The venue is need of a good refurb, but it was still a cool place. Ben changed the set up a bit and I was gratified to hear him play Talking Bird on the piano. If I'd had the nerve to request a song, that probably would've been the one. I actually found myself getting misty-eyed before it was over, a rare occurrence for me. Although I'm pretty sure that's just confirmation that I am a crazy bird lady. SFG (spastic fangirl) moment: before playing Where Our Destinations Lie, Ben mentioned seeing familiar faces from other shows in the crowd, then turned to me and asked if it was cool if he gave a similar intro for the song. I told him it was cool. I think my inner 15 year old passed out.
Oh yeah, he covered the Beatles too. No bigs. And along with Talking Bird he played Farmer Chords, Recycled Air and Passenger Seat. Just some of my favorite songs EVER. *blissful swoon*
The next morning, after picking up film and getting one last piroshky, I took the train to Portland, a city in which I have not spent nearly enough time. I was thrilled to pass Powell's on the way to my hotel and promised myself I'd check it out the next day before I went home. Anyway, cut to several hours later and I find myself inside the springy-floored ballroom, at the front one last time. Damien Jurado opened this last show and once again he was awesome. I will be making damn sure that I see him again the next time he tours.
The last show of a tour is always bittersweet for me, and this was no exception. I took more photos and video than I had in the previous nights combined, I think in an attempt to hang on to every moment. No matter how much I wished time would slow down, the show crept closer to the end, suddenly it was time for the piano songs and then the encore came out of nowhere and I clapped until my hands hurt and then somehow the last song rang out and it was all over and I wasn't ready at all! But I was really unprepared for Ben to take his setlist off the music stand, walk over to where I was standing and, amid all the people reaching towards him, hand it directly to ...me.
Oh. Em. Fucking Gee.
