My Bloody Valentine @ The National

Signs that this was going to be something out of the ordinary greeted us as soon as we got to the front door: earplugs were being handed out for free, and signs posted all over the inner lobby announced that the band strongly recommended that we actually use them. They also warned of extreme strobe and other light effects. With all the warnings, one wondered if this was a concert or a danger zone? A lot of both, it turned out.

As soon as the band took the stage, the crowd exploded, no doubt relieved that the show was actually happening. The distance, the seeming lack of publicity, the suspiciously reasonable ticket prices (only $25), and just the fact that it was My Bloody Valentine all suggested that perhaps we were about to be the victims of some elaborate hoax. But there they all were, in the flesh, and the moment Shields and company tore into the first ear-shattering walls of noise of "I Only Said", there were no more doubts. For people of a certain age and taste in music, this was one experience many had been waiting for (but assuming they'd never see) for most of their adult lives.

There were minor complaints that one could make. The band took a few songs to really lock in super-tight. Shields's and Bilinda Butcher's vocals, while never more than a background instrument on many MBV recordings anyway, here were barely audible at all over the din. But one would have to be awfully nitpicky to let that sour what was, by all signs, an evening that likely ranks as one of the best concert experiences many people in that building (this writer included) have ever had.

The band's setlist boiled down to selections from essentially just three recordings, their You Made Me Realise EP, and their two full length albums, Isn't Anything and Loveless, with the bulk, as expected, coming from the last. If the band is, as Shields has claimed, working on that elusive next record, there was no evidence of it here; every song was at least of voting age, yet at no point did the show come across like a hits-by-the-numbers reunion retread.

If they've lost any volume in the intervening years, it's not apparent: those earplugs were an absolute necessity for anyone on the main level. In the balcony one could get away without them, but only just barely. The noise was relentless, not really a pounding, slam-you-in-the-chest sort of punishing, but more placing your bowels in a hardware store paint-can shaker for 90 minutes. Combined with the intense strobes and projected images, it became a trance-like experience. Sometimes it was so loud that one's body would spontaneously begin generating heat. Looking around, some audience members sat utterly still, eyes wide; others literally were staring with jaws dropped. One pair covered their ears and were running around in circles. Time ceased to pass, and when we came up for air at the end of 90 minutes, after the hypnotic 20-minute colossus of a sonic bulldozer that was "You Made Me Realize", it seemed we'd been watching for less than an hour. As we spilled out onto the sidewalk afterward, people looked dazed, shell-shocked, unbelieving, until a smiling bliss crept in.

And really, isn't that how every concert should end?

Setlist:

I Only Said
When You Sleep
You Never Should
(When You Wake) You're Still In A Dream
Cigarette In Your Bed
Come In Alone
Only Shallow
Thorn
Nothing Much To Lose
To Here Knows When
Slow
Soon
Feed Me With Your Kiss
You Made Me Realise