Despite the cold open that Montreal student band The Longest Year was supposed to deliver as the first act of the day, the audience who crowded around the tented Open Air Pub (OAP) stage on Thursday afternoon had seemingly already warmed. Even more surprisingly, their wet hair was plastered to their foreheads, and their damp jeans bunched uncomfortably at their knees. The vitality amongst McGill students attending OAP was due to a surprise opener that trickled in that Thursday: The Rain.
Before the OAP musical set began, I sat perched under the drooping umbrella of a friend, socks getting wetter and frustration mounting. With my backpack sitting in the sopping grass at my feet and thoughts of what that could do to my laptop filling my mind, I pondered skipping the show entirely. That being said, with a beer in hand and this article to write, I decided to stick it out; I’m not made of sugar, after all!
The show started off with a fizzling intensity, showgoers’ energy ramping up vigorously as the sound of guitar crashed around them. Music eddied in tendrils throughout the quad, blending seamlessly with the thunder booming overhead. Quick streaks of lightning were confused with the flashes of bright lights upon the stage. The spirit of their audience brought out the best in The Longest Year, each member seeming to thrash their heads harder from one song to the next. The band played a set including original songs as well as covers from bands such as Radiohead and The Strokes—Julia Gribrinski’s powerful voice making the songs their own.
August’s last dose of summer storm seemed to provide for the crowd a cleanse of inhibitions. Perfectly styled hair was reduced to limp strands; makeup looks melted into nothing but smeared pigment. The only thing left was the music, and so they danced. All around me, students shimmied and shook like no one was watching, the slight haze cooked up by the dampness in the air creating the feeling as if we were in a world alone. Despite being sheltered under the tent of the stage, when asked about his performance, bassist of The Longest Year Noah Aldinger first noted the weather.
When the last whine from the amp rang out, there was nothing but wide grins. Friends laughed amongst each other while others hollered at the band to play just one more song. Walking home from the show—truthfully more like jogging, as I fantasised about dry pyjamas—I was struck by the pure energy of the people who attended. It was one void of self-consciousness, the destruction of image enacted by the rain allowing people to fully let loose.
Returning to campus this semester, I have noticed a strong emphasis on polished presentation. People confess that they feel they should have more friends at this point in university, or that they are sad that they haven’t bought a pair of Hunter Boots—they are back in style, after all. I cannot call myself exempt from this, already finding it hard to turn down social engagements for the fear of losing friendships or being perceived as too much of a homebody.
Last Thursday afternoon, drenched and dancing under a lit up sky, needs to be something that is brought into our lives this school year. Let us ditch the barriers that self-perception and insecurity construct between us and having a good time.
