One of my all-time favorite lyricists, Chris Hannah (of Propagandhi) very recently sang a poignant line regarding “the cruel ravages of time”:“We have a simple choice to make/Lament the decline or welcome it with grace.”
As a person who cannot remember a time where i DIDN’T look forward to getting older (perhaps as a reaction to the trauma of youth); i never understood the fear of aging on an intrinsic level. Certainly, i can comprehend it on a theoretical or sociopolitical level (as society is set up to throw away anyone whose labor it cannot exploit). However, someone being afraid to reveal their age, i never got- until recently.
If we think of getting older as solely a process of increasing numbers, we are perhaps more inclined to fear (or lament) it. If we recognize it for the journey it is
As the decades roll on we become much more aware of our mortality; but we also can reflect on the people and events that have shaped our lives, whether positive or negative. How we respond to this shaping is the most valuable part of the journey.
This is not some plea for a metaphysical Secret/’law of attraction’-type approach: As a materialist, i recognize there are some incredibly positive things that can happen for us, and incredibly not-so-positive things. In fact, i am a person who thinks a lot about when the other shoe is gonna drop, if you will. This isn’t a positive trait either (and is most likely a deep seated trauma reaction).
What i am ultimately saying is, in most cases (barring major events- like, say, genocide, abuse or any other types of trauma), it’s best to remain neutral and acknowledge both positive and not so positive events as lessons in life’s journey. Solely seeing the value of things for when life goes your way is not honoring the journey in the lessons you could be learning from all of your experiences.
And if nothing ‘bad’ ever happens to us (again, barring the previously mentioned factors)- If we were all able to ‘will’ or ‘attract’ only subjectively positive things- can the life we’re living actually be called a journey?
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My journey with Lou Barlow of course, began initially with his art.
i saw my life at the time similarly in ways i’d described Sebadoh (one of the many musical endeavors of his i’d obsessively listen to)- an awkward, shy, hopelessly romantic kid, with a penchant for sonic chaos. The aural disjointedness reflected or expressed what was happening with me at the time. Sebadoh created a perfect balance in my mind- As i headbanged to Eric Gaffney and Jason Loewenstein’s punk-laden anthems, i also cried as i longingly gazed at my unrequited crush, listening to Barlow’s ballads.
Of course as a punk/hardcore kid, i listened to Deep Wound, and as someone who picked up anything i could find that was released on the SST label, i listened to Dinosaur Jr. i never limited myself to any one genre, and i would go to the store and pick up anything Barlow had a hand in creating, be it Sentridoh, Folk Implosion, his solo works, or anything else.
i’d be in bands over the years where we covered some of these songs, and many years later, i decided to challenge myself and do an interpretation of one of my all-time favorite Sebadoh songs- ‘Think (Let Tomorrow Bee)’, where i played all of the instruments (drums, keys, bass, guitar and vocals).
Many many years ago as a teenager with a fanzine, i traveled to Massachusetts to both hang out with friends and and interview John Davis (the other half of Folk Implosion); while i had (older) friends who experienced the scenes there; it felt like such a remote world to me. i don’t remember much of what was said at this point (and i’m sure as a teenager my questions were awkward and not that deep), but i was grateful Mr. Davis took the time out of his day to spend some time with me, and reflect on his experiences.
At the time, i was obsessed with Take a Look Inside, the band’s 1994 debut album. i honestly don’t know how i found out about this album specifically, but as a Barlow music enthusiast i was not surprised that i did.
One year later the band exploded in popularity, as they contributed to the soundtrack of the Larry Clark-directed controversial film Kids.
The Folk Implosion headlined a show in NYC during this time, not long after the conversation i had with John Davis; the venue was fairly large, so i don’t recall ever having a chance to say hello to him. However, sometime throughout the night i saw Lou Barlow in the crowd. i wanted to say hello to the person who was one of my biggest musical inspirations, and one of my all-time favorite songwriters. i saw him glancing in my direction- and as i waved hello to him he glared at me.
HE GLARED AT ME.
i was crushed. i did laugh it off and enjoyed the rest of my night, but it was something i could not get out of my mind.
Obviously, his glare had very little to do with me- there’s the possibility he was having pre-show jitters; he could have not been in the greatest of moods that day in general. It’s possible he wasn’t even looking directly at me. Anything could have been happening at the moment, but it was one of a handful of times the ‘never meet your heroes’ cliche was confirmed for me.
i don’t adhere to the concept of ‘heroes’ in general (since the hierarchy of ‘looking up’ to a person requires a loss of self in a way, as well as the reduction of understanding that these people are also that- people). But yes, at the time, in my teenage mind i did look to Barlow as a musical ‘hero’ of sorts.
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i’m gonna be realistic though: The passage of time is real. if i were to approach many of the people i’ve met throughout my life now, i doubt all but a few would remember me.
Over the course of 33+ years i’ve had a zine, was in a bunch of bands, performed live, seen hundreds of other bands live, done radio for 11 years (in Portland, Oregon)- and i grew up in NYC. It would be an understatement to say that i’ve met many artists and musicians. Some of them i would end up becoming friendly with, and even shared an actual friendship with to some degree, spending time at their houses, and with their families.
That was a different time in my life- a time i will always cherish, and do not take for granted. That said, despite all of the more recent traumas and trials (some of them near fatal and life long), i feel like i am in the best part of my life- i am in the process of accepting myself in all of my imperfect forms (and giving myself criticism when necessary), i have a wonderful, empathetic and compassionate life partner, i live with two beautiful cat parents, and am opening myself to just say yes to things i want to do (even if it might result in a no).
If i were to compare life to a song (as it were), i’d echo Michael Jackson at Motown 25, after he performed with his brothers, about to perform the song which catapulted him into the artist we would all come to know- ‘Billie Jean’: “I have to say those were… the good old days… Those were magic moments. Those were good songs. I like those songs a lot. But especially, I like the new songs.”
i do not have a fear of death, but i do have an aversion to not living life.
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May 5, 2025 was the evening i officially met Lou Barlow- years after experiencing the rejection i’d fabricated internally.
It was at Mercury Lounge, where he was on a tour with Bobby Bare Jr. (of Guided By Voices (and his own solo work)). Both Bare and Barlow would cover songs (including each others’) as well as do originals. It’s been many years since i’ve seen Barlow in any live capacity, so i was quite excited to see him, without any expectation of actually meeting him. Like with anything else, i’m neutral; if it happens, it does. If it doesn’t happen, i still had a fun time, listening to good music.
i will not say i wasn’t gonna take a chance though.
After the show i had a nice conversation with Bobby Bare Jr., who was at the merch table. We talked about Metallica’s 2008 show at Grimey’s (the famed record store in Nashville, Tennessee), among other things. Floating about, i saw Lou on stage cleaning up after himself and collecting his instruments. i asked one of the other folks on stage to get him. He approached me, and after a few words he mentioned my Bad Religion hoodie, so we spent a bit of time talking about them, in particular the Public Service compilation they were on (released in 1981 on Smoke 7 Records).
i saw him again the 30th of April 2026 at Le Poisson Rouge (also in New York City), where he played a set before Jeffrey Lewis & The Voltage. After his set he said he would be at the merch table, so i bolted over there- again, with no expectations.
i did go to the merch table prior to his set and met Adelle, Lou’s wife. She is incredibly sweet. When i met Adelle, she was surprised i was familiar with her. i am familiar with her because i’d been listening to their podcast, Raw Impressions, for a while now.
Remember how i mentioned that people are just that- people? Their podcast is utter proof of this. i enjoy their honest banter; i enjoy the love and respect she and Lou have for each other. i enjoy their conversations around the struggles and joys of getting older (greatly resonating with Adelle’s discussions on perimenopause), and discussing watching their kid(s) grow and come into their own. i enjoy Lou’s updated takes on classic songs (and creations of new ones), and discussing his youthful excitement about hardcore 45s. It is legitimately one of my favorite podcasts.
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i am told by friends that i’m memorable, but i don’t necessarily see myself in that way at all. Many artists i meet with a significant level of fame or notoriety meet hundreds of people, sometimes in a day, and thousands of people every year. i could not expect anyone to remember me. i’m (again) fairly neutral on this, and while i would love for everyone i meet to see something memorable/extraordinary about my personality, i acknowledge that isn’t necessarily a reality.
After the set i saw Lou- and to my surprise, he did remember me, and my Bad Religion hoodie.
Lou Barlow will never be a hero to me (because no one is); however, while he continues to this day to be one of my biggest musical inspirations, i am also learning greatly from him as a person, in the little i’ve seen for myself. i am familiar with some of the struggles he’s had (as he’s been quite public about them); but he’s lived so much of a life i will never know for the most part. Besides what his music has meant for me, as i approach the middle period of my life (i am ten years his junior), meeting him has been inspiring for me. It warms my heart to have met someone with such childlike wonder, while also welcoming the aging process with maturity and grace.
The next time i saw him was on May 30, 2026, at the Total Bummer Festival in Queens, NY, where Dinosaur Jr. were headlining. Given that the Knockdown Center is a warehouse-sized large venue, i again had no expectation i would see him, or anyone else.
As a person who travels primarily in a wheelchair i struggle with festivals, as festivals in general are not all that accessible. Because of this, you can’t freely see all the bands you want, and you’re inclined to stay in one spot the whole time, to your consternation. Fortunately, the folks i met there were kind enough to hold my spot as i traveled to other parts of the venue.
As i was waiting to see Flipper (another one of my favorite bands), i felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Lou. We hugged, and he introduced me to his son. i handed him a record i made. Both he and his son watched a few songs of Flipper’s set, then left, presumably to prepare for Dinosaur Jr.’s set.
Before getting back to the main room to see Dinosaur, i watched the Meat Puppets (another all-time favorite band). Before their set i spoke a bit with (guitarist) Elmo Kirkwood about tattoos, and Cris Kirkwood told me he loved my hair. i told him i loved his band. “Really?” he asked. i responded, “You’re one of my favorite bands of all time.”
i would never lie about something like that. If he followed that up with asking me what my favorite songs were, i was ready for that too.
Speaking of bass players (which Cris Kirkwood is), there are several whom i love watching- players who have an unmistakable, sometimes unorthodox style. While this list certainly isn’t all-inclusive, some i’m thinking of at the moment are Jay Bentley (Bad Religion), Shane Embury (Napalm Death), Todd Kowalski (Propagandhi), Greg Norton (Hüsker Dü), Sean Yseult (White Zombie), Mark King (Level 42), Ben Shepherd (Soundgarden), Graham Maby (Joe Jackson band), Mike Watt, and Lou Barlow.
i initially played guitar in bands (and eventually moved to drums), despite always having an affinity for it (My two favorite bassists are James Jamerson and Meshell Ndegeocello, and it is Joe Lally who was my biggest inspiration, making me want to pick up the instrument in the first place). It wasn’t until after i got hit by a truck when i regularly started playing. Given that i’m still a baby in the larger scheme of things, i don’t think i have a particular playing style- but ultimately that’s not up for me to decide. Other bass players can let me know what they think.
Since this piece is about a certain person named Lou, i’ll discuss what i appreciate about his style- not as a fellow bass player (if i could even call myself that), but as a music lover.
- His playing is a dialog between the chaotic and the methodical.
- He plays exactly like a guitar player. No… he plays like a guitar player. No, i don’t think you understand what i mean. He plays like a guitar player. Or is it a ukulele player?
- His antsiness is a perfect balance to J Mascis’ more stoic delivery.
- He and (drummer) Murph have a particular playful language they communicate to one another, without saying a word.
- He’s not there merely to contribute root notes and stay quiet- in the tradition of Lemmy Kilmister or Phil Lynott (or Mike Watt), the bass is far from a background instrument.
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Despite our meeting a few times, it should be obvious to anyone and everyone that i do not know Lou Barlow. Given this fact, i was able to have witnessed a bit of his world, as i attended his ’60th Birthday Bash Variety Show’ at the Shea Theater Arts Center, in Turners Falls, Massachusetts.
The very little i DO know ended up making so much more sense.
As i learned about this event happening, i was presently in the course of planning a virtual meeting to commemorate my 50th year on the planet. i’m not popular enough to rent out any particular venue with the expectation of filling it on my own, so i figured if i’d invite people who i’ve been grateful to have in my life, whether they were there for a moment or for years in a virtual manner, at least a couple of people would show up, even if just for a bit.
It has been a bit of time since i’ve used the word ‘birthday’ to describe the annual commemoration of a solar return. For me, every day you wake up (after some rest) is a birth day; it is a new day, where you get to experience and learn new things. What is typically considered a ‘birthday’, i call a ‘hatching day’, since we were only hatched once.
i also don’t usually celebrate this day- again, every day for me is a birth day. however, you only turn 50 once.
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It was noted in one of his and Adelle’s blog posts that while the event was sold out, they’d have a bit of room for folks who were listeners of the podcast. If anyone was interested in going, we should contact him, which i immediately did.
There was a bit of conversing regarding travel, and i got a bus ticket to Greenfield.
There is a bit of apprehensiveness i carry when traveling to new places, as i have little to no awareness of their accessibility. i’ve learned to navigate around the countless limitations that exist, but that doesn’t mean i want to. While the venue prided itself on practicing the utmost consideration for disabled members of the community; i’ve had more than enough experiences where the realities contradicted the intent. Also, even if the venue were fully accessible, would the town be?
i discovered that i had little to worry about.
While i didn’t travel throughout all of Greenfield or Turners Falls (which (if i’m not mistaken) is about 24-30 miles from Greenfield), everywhere i went had a ramped entrance- including the Chinese food joint, which in my experience tends to usually have steps at the entrance. Doors were either automatic, or someone held the door for you (which a woman who worked at the Chinese food joint did). And everyone was incredibly sweet- i even had a man in an electric wheelchair ask me out, and he wasn’t creepy. He was actually pretty smooth with it.
It threw me off for a second, since it was the first time since the accident that anyone’s considered asking me out. And even before then, the men who did it clearly were not looking for any type of significant connection.
Another thing that occurred was that while in a record shop, a little girl (who looked no more than 5 years old) said to her mother, “Mommy, she’s got curly hair,” as she pointed to me. The mother answered in the affirmative. This would perhaps usually be not much of a deal to people, but when you spend a lot of your life being stared at and commented on by children who are not introduced to diverse groups of people, a little thing like that will surprise you. In my limited time there, this tiny town of Turners Falls dispelled the scenarios described by both the Dead Milkmen and Jason Aldean- It was welcoming and warm… and is even okay with a little punk rock, and some Dancehall, as i noticed that Yellowman (a man who has plenty to say about survival) was slated to perform at the Shea.
Celebrating your life with those you love most and feel closest to is a very intimate experience. To extend an invitation to those you may not personally know as well is incredibly vulnerable and humbling, for everyone involved. Without (again) knowing much; to open the celebration up to be had in a community venue, from my vantage point, shows how beloved Lou is in said community.
A musical exploration of his life over the past 40+ years; Barlow played some of the songs spanning his own catalog. He also invited a few of his favorite artists to share the celebration with him. Adam Green, Bobby Bare Jr. and Jeffrey Lewis played quick sets of their original music, as well as Scott Helland, who did triple duty that evening, not only performing songs from his one-man band Guitarmy Of One; he also participated in a tribute to Deep Wound (which both he and Lou were in). Charles Thompson (aka Black Francis/Frank Black) and Murph participated in a tribute to Eric Gaffney (who formed Sebadoh with Lou).
The celebration undoubtedly was reflective, but it didn’t romanticize the past or feel cheaply nostalgic. It was similar to what i’ve aimed to have for my own commemoration for achieving the exact middle point in life: displaying a gratefulness to those who have shared this journey with him thus far.
One of the things i appreciated most about it was how much it really did feel like a community talent show- right on down to someone having to move the microphone out of the way in order for the curtain to close. i don’t think something like this could have been done any other way, without it appearing perfunctory at best, and excessive at worst.
Both Lou and i are Generation X- he was hatched in the earliest parts of it, and i was hatched toward the latter. i have ten more years to go, but i hope at 60, i maintain a similar zeal and zest for life, a prolific ability to create for the sake of it, the wisdom of knowing when to let go and again, a childlike wonder.
The event was also a family affair: Lou’s sister Abby (who i was familiar with via recordings over the years) made an appearance on stage; as did his daughter and niece, who played an original song. Talent certainly runs in that family.
Having met family members (including his parents) after the show, i was positive that i began to understand how Lou Barlow has come into the place he currently is. Despite any struggles he’s had within himself and with others over the years, he was afforded a place to reflect by family (chosen or blood) and community. i stopped thinking about the music for a moment, and i became genuinely happy for him to have been able to experience something many of us have not been able to.
It is obvious that one of the pillars of his life is Adelle, who coordinated the event. There was a point throughout the night where Lou mentioned Adelle telling him he has ADHD- something which gave me a bit of a chuckle, as i was recently diagnosed with ADHD within the past year. Many of us who’ve lived with it undiagnosed, know how helpful it is to have someone keep us on top of some of life’s functions.
i can tell he is incredibly grateful for her presence in his life.
Listening to their podcast, it’s clear they compliment each other very well. And yes, it is also clear she keeps him on top of particular things like scheduling and certain tasks. i resonate with the most whimsical parts of Lou’s personality, and know how easy it is to be distracted and wander. People like Adelle bring out the best in people like us.
i also appreciate how she is not ‘the wife of a musician’, a role far too many women have been relegated to. She does address all of life’s complexities as the wife of a professional musician (obviously); however, while her husband is a significant part of her life, he is NOT her life, and she speaks candidly about her own interests and health journey, among other things.
Even if it were not a traditional show, i was dancing, singing the songs and headbanging. It is not up for me to judge where someone started or currently is in their Barlow musical journey- i will be honest though, and say i was surprised there were not more Deep Wound appreciators.
Outside of a couple of later year mini reunions (and Dinosaur Jr.’s cover of ‘Training Ground’), Deep Wound were a very short-lived band, lasting for only a couple of years. Despite this extra brief period of existence, their influence was massive not to just the hardcore community; they also notably contributed to laying the foundation for what would be known as grindcore.
i definitely wore that 7″ out as a teenager, and years later got the Deep Wound LP compilation released by the Damaged Goods label. So when Lou opened the set with, “Hi, we’re Sick Of Fun,” i knew what we were in for, and i was not disappointed.
i personally am not an advocate for ‘reliving the past’ (which is quite different than paying tribute to it)… but as a person who still attends a lot of punk/hardcore/metal shows, i never wanted to be in a pit in recent times more than i did at that moment. And it may have only been me in that pit (and perhaps a couple of others, according to Scott Helland), because i wasn’t so sure that the audience was aware of what greatness they were witnessing: ‘Lou’s Anxiety Song’, ‘Psyched To Die’, ‘Deep Wound’, ‘Dead Babies’… By the time Deep Wound broke up i was 7 or 8 years old (and it wouldn’t be a few more years until i heard of punk or hardcore), so experiencing this set amused me.
What a time to be alive.
Everyone has lived so much life, experienced many losses and learned many lessons since 1984; but for a brief period of time in 2026, we bore witness to how a little hardcore band from Western Massachusetts perhaps didn’t necessarily know how much they would participate in influencing the direct musical landscape around them; but its members also gave birth to some of the most influential bands in their respective scenes outside of hardcore, from the Outpatients to Dinosaur Jr. and Sebadoh, and so on.
i cannot possibly know what is going on in Lou’s head; it must feel surreal on some level. While many have come to him over the years (before or after a show) bearing their soul on how much he has inspired them, to be in the middle of this realization during a chronological commemoration of how much you have actually created… It has to be surreal.
A couple of moments which moved me the most (outside of performances with family members) were the cover of ‘Daddy What If’ with Bobby Bare Jr., written by Shel Silverstein, and the tribute to Eric Gaffney.
‘Daddy What If’ is a song most well known for being covered by Bobby Bare Sr.- with his son playing the role of the child in the song. Silverstein didn’t only write for children, but his books and poetry were known to aptly depict the anxiety and questions a child would consistently have of the larger world they feel so small in:
Whatif I’m dumb in school?
Whatif they’ve closed the swimming pool?
Whatif I get beat up?
Whatif there’s poison in my cup?
Whatif I start to cry?
Whatif I get sick and die?
Whatif I flunk that test?
Whatif green hair grows on my chest?
Whatif nobody likes me?
Whatif a bolt of lightning strikes me?
Whatif I don’t grow taller?
Whatif my head starts getting smaller?
Whatif the fish won’t bite?
Whatif the wind tears up my kite?
Whatif they start a war?
Whatif my parents get divorced?(Excerpt from ‘Whatif’ (Silverstein))
Always one to throw a bit of humor in the mix, Lou walked on stage on his knees, and talking with a high pitched voice, played the role of a child. As a father himself, i’m sure he’s had experience alleviating a few anxieties, echoed in the poetry of Silverstein. After the cover, he and Bobby hug- and as a giant fan of hugs, i appreciated that moment. It was a touching way to not only celebrate life with a friend, but to honor a gift Bare shared with his own father.
And while the festivities were primarily highlighting the creative journey of Lou Barlow, it goes without saying that whatever journey we’ve had can never be had alone.
A tribute to Eric Gaffney- a person just as prolific as Barlow- is absolutely appropriate for an event like this. Both J Mascis and Gaffney have had their personal and creative struggles with Barlow; however, In my mind, both of them have been such pivotal forces in his life. He’s mature enough to understand this, and in the case of Dinosaur Jr., was able to address differences enough to create with Mascis again.
Barlow did reunite with Gaffney for a time in the late 2000s as well. The massive respect Lou has for Eric is apparent, and the inclusion of Charles Thompson (a man whose band (Pixies) has been influential to countless individuals- including myself) for this tribute cannot be overlooked, as he is cut from a similar creatively surrealist cloth.
Obviously not everyone who has shaped Barlow’s life creatively (or that he’s worked with) was present, and i can only imagine how exhausting it was to coordinate everything behind the scenes. That said, the three hours we experienced was fairly full, both in terms of time, as well as emotionally.
My life, when it comes to Lou Barlow, has been a series of missed opportunities: Traveling out of the country at the time the Folk Implosion reunite and do a house show fairly close to my own house, or being sick on the Day Dinosaur Jr. played (when i had a ticket)… There are times i’ve found out about shows after the fact.
Similar to usage of the word ‘birthday’; i don’t adhere to the concept of FOMO, as the reality of time and space is reliant on our inability to be everywhere at once.
We’re not getting any younger though, and if i am able to i am going to see my favorite artists. i am going to see the people who have become my inspirations, and have contributed to how i view and create art.
i was not expecting to see Lou or Adelle after the show (due to the realities of post-show cleanups and occasional chaos), but as i exited the bathroom i rolled out to the front lobby to find him by the door. He gave me a big hug and mentioned he was worried if i was going to show up.
If i could help it, i would not miss this moment for the world, Lou. i was glad to have experienced it.
i did see Adelle for a moment as well, but she was understandably tired, and was going to get their daughter, Izzy (who performed a song with her father) and go back to the house.
After the show i also met Adam Green (of the band Moldy Peaches). After conversing a bit i asked him if he knew Clyde, whom i played drums with in the first incarnation of their band, Your Heart Breaks. Describing the formation of the band (and the environment which hatched it), in 2023 they wrote:
“We regularly stayed up all night long. We allowed each other to be strange, to experiment with art and film and music, free of the pressures of success or fame. We put on our own film festivals and shows. We did not ask for permission. The neighbor, who woke up at 3am everyday to deliver the newspaper, hated us.
Everyone thought we were from Olympia. We were a side note to a lot of music scenes. Not quite rock or Riot Grrrl or indie or twee. We were just earnest people playing pop music in a small town for whoever would listen. It’s been 25 years and not much has changed in terms of Your heart breaks. We’re still friends, we still make art, and we’re all even weirder than we were all those years ago.”
They describe meeting me:
“She had arrived there through some words of encouragement and a friendship with Jordan Rain, drummer for Behead The Prophet No Lord Shall Live. I have no idea where we met, but suddenly she was spending time at the Gimli (aka the Gimli Hospital For Wayward Orphans, one of the few art/punk houses in Bellingham, Washington), leaving us poems and mixtapes, playing music and expounding upon numerous ideas and theories. She played drums, I played guitar, and we started playing songs together.”
There are slight similarities between the hardcore scene in Western Massachusetts (which stayed in the shadows of Boston hardcore), and what was happening in Bellingham, which remained in the shadows of Olympia and Seattle.
Clyde was also the catalyst for leading me back to playing music after the accident in 2021, as they gifted me an Octopad, in order to pass the time during my physical therapy.
i can never thank them enough.
Adam for certain knew Clyde- in fact, they spoke with one another on the phone that morning. The world truly is smaller than we think.
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While i have praises for my experience in this small area of Greenfield and Turners Falls, the reality of both my mobility limitations and lack of transportation kicked in.
After a show i would normally order a ride, as many train stations are not accessible. Greenfield and Turners Falls are so small that they essentially have one driver, and a small taxi company. (i ended up meeting the head driver of the company the next day, as i was heading the the bus station to return to my house. he was hilarious, and actually used to live in the Bronx).
Due to this limitation, Abby and Kathy were kind enough to coordinate a ride to the hotel where i stayed for the night, for which i am incredibly grateful.
Before we leave, i see Lou again. He wanted to make sure things were okay regarding transportation. He also let me know he really enjoyed the record i gave him, and that he appreciated its uniqueness. After thanking him i responded that Double Nickles On The Dime (by the Minutemen) was a primary inspiration for creating it, which made a lot of sense to him.
i’m not sure how much i can describe the feeling you get when someone who is one of your biggest musical inspirations has taken the time out of their day to listen to something you worked at creating, then they tell you they enjoy the result of that work. Yes, Lou Barlow is a person whom is no better than you or i; but i’m not an automaton. I HAVE FEELINGS.
And yes, before i left i did tell him as he was standing next to me, that he was one of my biggest musical inspirations… because how often do you get to say this to someone, person to person? Time is too precious to fear the bearing of feelings. i am also sure he’s quite aware of his impact on some level. i cannot possibly be the only person to have said this to him.
Life is not promised- This is the reality we generally hope to ignore. Even if the both of us live for another 20 to 40 years; while i hope this isn’t the case, that moment in Turners Falls may be the last time we see each other.
Nevertheless, i am grateful that i’ve been able to witness an era of Lou Barlow welcoming this period of his life with grace and unending creativity, to have met blood and extended/chosen members of his family, and see a bit of the community he’s had space to flourish in.
Thanks for inviting me in part of that world, even for a bit.
Happy hatching day, Lou Barlow.
the one woman apollo! 
Metallica In London (UK)- Night 1 of 2: The Importance Of Community (Amid The Presence Of Trauma)
(note: There’s references to suicide/ideation and assault here. If you’re okay with that, thanks in advance for reading.)
Despite the dreadful day i had, i was reminded of the gift of Metallica’s music in my life.
It is this gift which has led to the aching and dryness of my eyes, due to crying rivers to the majority of their 16-song set.
The morning of 3 July, i woke up solidly somewhere between 5 and 6 am to go to the bathroom; given that i set the alarm for 7:36 (as per my superstition of setting any alarm time in endings of 6), i could not get back to sleep. Arriving to a Metallica concert on very little sleep is something i’ve done a few other times. That said, i could have set the alarm for much later if i knew what i now know regarding London Stadium- the scene of many a mishap, violation and unintentional ableism.
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Since the launching of the M72 tour in 2023, i have seen 22 shows from all three years so far- including the one i am about to speak about. From the total, i have seen the band in a seat 10 times (including the most recent show), 3.5 times in Snake Pit (the area in the middle of the stage), and 8.5 times in general admission (GA). For this tour, i have traveled to places such as Ciudad de México, Tkaronto (known to most as Toronto, Ontario, Canada); Baile Átha Cliath (known to most as Dublin, Ireland); Foxborough, MA; Nashville, TN; Tāmaki Makaurau, Aotearoa (known to most as Auckland, New Zealand), and more.
The number of shows and places on the world map i’ve gone to for this tour could never compare to so many others i know (who have seen far more shows); indeed, it is not a competition. i am incredibly grateful and do not take for granted that i have the ability/capacity to travel to the various ends of the world to see Metallica in the ways i have- one of the only bands i am willing to travel thousands of miles for. It is not because their music and live shows are amazing (which obviously i think they are); it is because through my travels, a community has developed. Deep friendships have developed. Through my travels have come some of the most positively life-altering experiences. Through my travels, i have learned so much more about myself.
In a way, many are awestruck that as an amputee, i travel internationally (and frankly, domestically as well) on my own. If i DIDN’T travel on my own, i’d never leave the house. While there are those in my vicinity who love the band (not necessarily as much as i do), i don’t particularly have anyone willing or has the capacity to travel with me to go to these shows, or to be steeped in particular aspects of the culture.
i am also a massively independent person. i have been this way for the majority of my life. Living as an amputee these past five years has immensely challenged my notion of what it means to be truly independent- some (again) positive challenges, and others, incredibly painful.
My independence was one of the things which broke me, on the night of 3 July, 2026.
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Well, this is not necessarily true: The initial moment which broke me was ALSO in England- Donington Park in Leicestershire, England.
Metallica were headlining the Download festival for two nights in 2023; other bands whom i love, such as Bad Religion and Soul Glo, were also playing. Staying in Nottingham during my time there, it took upwards of at least an hour to travel there (if you were fortunate enough to not encounter gridlocked traffic). It was the first festival in 30 years i attended, since the second and third Lollapaloozas (in 1992 and 1993, respectively), and my first as an amputee.
What i encountered was the least accessible experience i’ve ever had. Similar to my most recent experience, it also led to many bouts of rivers cried. i missed many bands and activities (and saw bands i didn’t have a particular interest in seeing), because i had to stay in one spot for much of the day, as i spent much of the festival time alone. Every single thing was distanced so far apart from one another. The terrain was also incredibly difficult to navigate in a manual wheelchair. It was difficult to the point where even electric wheelchairs struggled.
Similar to with London Stadium; the accessibility facilitators of Download, on their website emphasized attentiveness to those with accessibility needs- cold storage for certain medicines, specialized toilets, platforms where you could see. They even had you send in a medical form to ensure ‘honesty’ about your disability. As many of us who experience a range of disabilities, the intent does not always correlate to the action.
You end up being so attentive to the needs of disabled folks, that disabled folks end up being dehumanized.
For Download, not only were the paths difficult to navigate, the toilets had barely functioning lights (or none at all), the refrigerators for the meds were not existent (for some), the camps were also inaccessible for some, and the ‘accessible platforms’ were so far back, the construction of them felt like an afterthought.
Download (again) was the first festival i attended in 30 years, but it put me off of attending them forever- until i attended Punk Rock Bowling in 2025. This festival put Download to shame- the platform for the main stage, while significantly smaller than Download’s, gave you perfect access to seeing the bands, as the platform was constructed almost in the dead center of the grounds, as opposed to the rear. The two stages were also close to one another, giving you opportunities to catch bands on both stages. No band’s set overlaps either. The language around accessibility was far more casual than Download (and other sites/venues that overemphasize accessibility) and in my view, did a far superior job.
They also are decisively antifascist. It is the only festival i will attend from now on.
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Donnington should have warned me about never going to go see Metallica in England never again, but alas, i did not listen.
Again, Metallica is a band i travel for. The London shows are also the final two for the M72 tour, and i wanted to commemorate these long three years with some of my (chosen) family members.
What proceeded to occur though, i will acknowledge is partly my fault.
Whenever i am unfamiliar with a place, i err on searching for information regarding accessibility. While i looked over at the page on accessibility for London Stadium a night or two before the show, i absolutely missed one thing which would have saved me some modicum of the struggles i encountered when i got to the venue: “Customers with mobility scooters or wheelchairs do not have access to the pitch area or golden circle on concerts / stage events on the pitch. Please note, customers with mobility scooters or wheelchairs do not have access to the pitch area (usually ticketed as ‘General Admission Standing’ or ‘Gold Circle Standing’) for concerts or stage events.”
They said it twice, and i missed it. i noticed everything else regarding the page (British Sign Language (BSL) Performance Interpreting, Changing Places / Accessible Toilets, Quiet Spaces, and Pyrotechnics and Lights in particular), but for some reason i missed the one thing that would have assisted me in making decisions moving forward. i have no one to blame but myself. Had i known that no wheelchairs were allowed on the floor before purchasing a ticket, my initial thoughts would be that i would have most likely opted for something seated.
However, after what i experienced, i will opt out of anything seated at a Metallica show from now on, if i can help it. For some of us disabled/more vulnerable folk, being on the floor (and specifically at rail/in the front) is actually a saving grace.
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Most people want to be at rail (or the front) because they want to be closer to the band. i don’t think this is necessary for me; i’ve been to hundreds of shows in the days and years before losing a limb, and i had fun, regardless of where i stood in the venue. The only reason i aim for rail is for one reason only- it is literally how i can see the bands. If i am behind just one person, i am not able to see a thing.
Most venues, when you enter them, immediately want to bring you to whatever ‘accessible’ section they have. i advocate for myself every single time (to the occasional consternation of those attempting to lead me elsewhere), and tell them i am going to rail, or the front. i go to many of the same venues at this point, so they know me well enough to not ask. So-called ‘accessible’ sections tend to be blocked either by people, or objects. Many times they can be off to the side with all of the bands’ instruments. The entrances tend to be in the back alleyway, or through the kitchen. It always feels like an afterthought, to meet the bare minimum of legal requirements.
The majority who do not project mild annoyance onto me end up being surprised; some even call me brave. i would not consider attending a punk/hardcore or metal show in a wheelchair in any way, shape or form brave; but again, we live in a society where people in wheelchairs (and by extension, apparently disabled people) are supposed to be seen and not heard… so for some, being in the middle of the floor where a mosh pit is consistently breaking out is ‘brave’.
Metallica shows are interesting… Because the attachment to being on the rail for many is (again) tied to a desire to be closer to the band in some way (or to get access to picks, sticks, setlists and hand contact), it’s most likely thought that everyone is there for desire to that same access.
The best thing in my experience about being up front is the relationships that have materialized. While i will always cherish any items that have been personally given to me- because they took the time out to personally give them to me (whether it’s band members, crew or extended ‘Metallica Family’); the things i’m grateful for the most are the things i actually have been able to experience- all with band, crew and extended/chosen family members: the deep hugs, the conversations, the being able to say ‘Thank you’.
A pick or stick will be around for a while, but the impact of these other things last a lifetime.
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St. Anger was watching over me last night.
i left the hotel earlier than usual, knowing there would be some level of struggle regarding the show- whether navigating up hills alone in a manual wheelchair, logistical issues on the venue’s part, or encountering people who are tied to being on the rail.. and it doesn’t matter if you’re in a wheelchair and need to see.
Had i not left as early as i did, i’m not sure if i’d have an opportunity to meet up with friends in the time i did. London Stadium is quite big, and it’s easier to get split up from a group easily. Given that i’m usually alone when i go to these shows, if no one chooses to stay with me in the process, i end up getting lost from the group.
Had i not arrived as early as i did, i would not have spent the valuable time i did with Shep, as we updated each other about our lives over a noontime meal. Had i not arrived earlier, i would not have made new friends, and gotten hugs from older ones.
i cannot reiterate enough that going to a Metallica show is not just about the band for me. Thinking about it as i write this, the tears are returning.
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Much of the day was seemingly okay until i entered the venue proper.
After i had my ticket checked in, i was met by a couple of people, asking what kind of ticket i had. After i let them know, they immediately said, “You cannot be on the floor.” After a few minutes of radioing in for some assistance/advice, i was sent to a ticket window. After waiting there for around a half hour, i was then sent to a section of the venue, and asked to wait, in order to figure out where to be seated. i was told the person at the door would help me.
The venue had not been open to the general crowd yet- only early entry, which is the ticket i paid for- so i went to the merch stand, which took longer than usual. When i returned the doors to the venue were opened, but the person i was supposed to talk to was gone. Another man was there (with a dog that detects bombs), but he was not aware of the situation. There were a lot of people working at the venue (and a lot of radioing in), but it doesn’t feel like anything (or anyone) was connecting.
Yesterday was a day full of liminal spaces: i did more waiting around, until they figured out what seat could be arranged for me to sit in.
i was told that the policy of ‘no wheelchairs on the floor’, while not stated explicitly on the site, is to ensure protection in case there’s a stampede or some other type of catastrophe. This makes no sense to me, because not only are people with two fully functioning legs just as negatively impacted by a stampede. This also makes no sense to me, because the worker who informed me of the policy’s reasoning (after asking her) also said if i put on my prosthetic, this would be acceptable on the floor.
This ‘legal loophole’ is not set up to consider that for many of us amputees, the wearing of a prosthetic for long periods of time is absolutely painful.
This law (which i was told was put forth by the government in London, and applies to every venue in town of that size in particular), while aiming to ‘protect’ people with disabilities, it still takes a ‘you’re okay if you’re not too disabled in our eyes’ approach. This law possibly also does not consider that a performer may spend most time in a wheelchair, if a venue does not accommodate wheelchairs to be on the floor.
While London Stadium’s site was not specific, Wembley Stadium’s was, regarding walking sticks: “Walking aids (i.e. crutches, walking sticks, protective boots) are allowed into the seated areas, but unfortunately, due to the unpredictability of crowd movement on the floor, these aren’t allowed in the standing area on standing floor events such as concerts, boxing and AEW.”
Having gone to many a rough punk/hardcore and metal show with people on the floor who have a range of disabilities (and sometimes use assistive tools), believe us when we say we know the risks of being on the floor. If we did not think we could handle it, we would not be on the floor.
Again, the reason many of us choose to be on the floor is because the accessible sections they’ve decided to provide are either consistently obscured, or too far back to even engage with what’s going on on stage. Tickets in accessible sections also tend to be priced higher than ‘regular’ ones.
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While obviously going through all safety channels between band and venue security (regarding pyro, ‘crowd control’, etc.); when choosing a venue to play at, tour managers and bands don’t necessarily consider rules such as ‘no wheelchairs on the floor’, because (a. there’s not a lot of people in wheelchairs in GA, and (b. if people were in wheelchairs on the floor in other cities, it may seem like this would be acceptable in every venue- a mistake i clearly made.
For the London Stadium shows, i purchased the tickets during a presale, thinking nothing of looking for this particular policy. While (again) i generally look up information regarding accessibility in an unfamiliar venue, i tend to do it after i purchase a ticket.
For Metallica shows in particular, i will now be sure to do it beforehand.
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After a fairly long period of waiting, i get seated in Section/Block 130, Row 26, Seat 411.
The woman who set it up- Rachel, was very kind. In fact, all of the people i had to deal with were kind, and i made sure to tell them it was not them i was upset about, but this unintentionally ableist policy.
For me, to be unintentionally ableist is when your intentions are to be considerate or accommodating to people in the disabled community, but you end up not giving them many options, or ultimately doing more harm than good.
While the policy was indeed in place, i made sure to ask several people (including those in wheelchairs who were local) if they were familiar with it. Not one person was.
Rachel was kind enough to give me a ticket, in case one of my friends wanted to come visit me. i did not bother to ask any of my friends, because i knew where most of them were on the floor, and i knew they were not trying to move.
Block 130 was the closest i could be to seeing things. As everyone was talking to me, attempting to figure things out; i wanted to cry but held it in. When they all left and i began to watch everyone on the floor freely walking about, it all came out. i felt trapped, and alone. i felt hopeless and helpless. i wanted to disappear. Thoughts of not wanting to live weaved in and out of my mind.
Nothing about this might make sense to someone reading. This may be due to the fact that it’s assumed it’s all stemmed from not being able to be on the floor, when it’s my fault i didn’t look into it enough.
In fact, the tears, anger and ideation have very little to do with where i was located. However, it was the catalyst for the primary realization: i lost my connection to community (the very reason i go to these shows) in an instant, and i had no choice in the matter. i lost my independence. i was stuck depending on people who did not have to promise me anything.
As the hours rolled by, more tears fell. i went to get some popcorn during Gojira’s set (in a bin which was much larger than imagined/expected) as a means of distracting myself from crying. The moment i finished eating, i began crying again.
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There’s been many a Metallica show, where prior to going in, i was moments away from ending my life. There’s been moments where, similar to yesterday, i cried until my eyes hurt. Usually seeing them perform is quite healing, even if for a couple of hours.
Yesterday, that did not happen.
i did not have it in me at all to enjoy it. In fact, taking it all in made me cry more.
Objectively, the band were on point. Looking outside of myself, i’d say their set was amazing. But i mentally was not there.
After conversing with a couple of folks, i moved back to my little section, as their set was about to begin. i always feel a rush of excitement when the house speakers’ volume goes down, and a rumble rises, indicating that it’s time.
As many know, Metallica is a spiritual band for me. Seeing them is comforting and cathartic. i really do feel the universe has connected me somehow to this music, as a healing force. It is indeed, a gift.
After the introductory rumble (followed by AC/DC’s ‘It’s a Long Way to the Top (If You Wanna Rock ‘N’ Roll)’ and Ennio Morricone’s ‘The Ecstasy Of Gold’), all i could muster were tears, for these two songs that would normally be a wave of elation.
There are particular songs i have cried to during Metallica’s sets for various reasons, including a dear friend succumbing to a long bout with cancer shortly before traveling to a show, or because i was at an incredibly low period in life. This show- 3 July 2026 at London Stadium, i cried to 10 out of the 16 songs in the set.
This set was amazing (again, objectively); the band were in positive spirits, they played ‘Of Wolf And Man’ and ‘Holier Than Thou’ (two songs i’ve seen during M72 but always love when they bust them out), Kirk and Rob played two covers (from the great Ian Dury and The Clash that i love)- but i didn’t have the mental capacity to enjoy any of it, subjectively. i attempted to sing and air drum to the songs i didn’t cry to, and i felt dejected.
This night SHOULD have been a perfect night- but i cried.
i cried, thinking about being apart from all my friends, as the band is honoring their friend and brother Cliff Burton during ‘Orion’; i cried during James Hetfield’s solo in ‘Master Of Puppets’ (my favorite solo of his). i cried to ‘Lux Æterna’, because this song always feels like a giant hug. It particularly hit me when the “cast out the demons” lyric was sung. i cried during ‘Nothing Else Matters’, as thousands of lights went up, in unison.
Nothing mattered more to me at that moment than being in community- and i was alone, despite being around thousands of people.
‘Fade To Black’ is a song i’ve cried to on many an occasion, for obvious reasons. While yesterday was no different; as the song played on, i experienced another level of trauma.
Throughout the day, people continually kept approaching me to ask if i was okay. All i could tell them was ‘no’, because it was difficult to explain (with music blaring) that my anger and tears were not simply about not being on the floor. A young person i had spoken to earlier about the situation kept trying to cheer me up; however, it was frustrating as she, again, had no deeper context to why i was in tears.
Given that ‘Fade To Black’ is a song from the perspective of someone on the verge of ending their life (or at least thinking about it), i figured the man who asked if he could sit next to me was there to be a sympathetic voice. Unfortunately, he saw my incredibly vulnerable moment and attempted to take advantage of it.
This drunk man, loudly singing the song in my ear (clearly indicating that hes a fan) began to touch me- a little too much. i’m clearly uncomfortable, but he was too drunk to read body language. He kept putting his head on me, in several attempts at hugging, also rubbing my hand and arm. i instantly assumed this to be some sort of fetishization ritual. He asked where i was from (and i told him, thinking he would leave me alone), but he couldn’t hear me. After initially telling him to stop, he proceeded to touch me again, on the verge of molesting me. i proceeded to force his hands off of me.
This did not work, as i had to force his hands off of me a few more times, as well as continually tell him to stop. i came fairly close to punching this man in the face (as i have hit men who have groped me in the past), but stopped short of it because i figured this would get me kicked out of the venue.
i told him to move, and after the third time, he did- however, he was only inches away from me, clearly stumbling. There were tons of people around me (including workers), and no one did anything.
The man proceeded to touch me again- after the third time of telling him to go away, the workers finally responded. All of this was during ‘Fade To Black’, but it felt like an eternity. The moment was reminiscent of being sexually assaulted on the back of a school bus (with other kids looking and laughing) when i was 8 years old. It also reminded me of when i was in Paris, France, and molested by a person at the front desk of a hotel- the reason why i will never return to France.
The song has a whole other memory for me now. At that moment, i really did, once again, lose the will to live.
One of my favorite parts of the show occurs at the very end, as most people are leaving. Save Lars’ comments about the last time they played in a respective city, the majority of their outros are the same, but i don’t particularly care- it’s enjoyable to me. However, as with the whole evening, i could not muster up the ability to even smile.
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While (again, objectively) the show was amazing, after ‘Fade,’ i felt lifeless. Everything about the show was ruined for me. i also knew that i would not be able to see any of my friends after the show.
On top of all of this, having to go to the bathroom was a disaster. At London venues, a RADAR key is used to enter accessible bathrooms, so as to prevent everyone else from using them. While i think this is a great idea IN THEORY, if you do not have access to a RADAR key, it is incredibly difficult to find a person with one. The only way i was able to go to the bathroom during the show is because i saw someone not a worker have one available. One of the times, i left the leg pieces to my wheelchair in one of the bathrooms, and (again) the only way i was able to get to them is because someone not a worker had a key.
So much of the bathroom experience is waiting around because of the lack of accessible stalls or areas, for one reason or another. It’s amazing that so many of us don’t pee our pants all the time.
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i waited for almost an hour at the Stratford station, waiting for the post-concert rush to clear. During my wait, i did get to speak on the phone with a couple of friends, attempting to process and vent about the day.
When i got back to the station next to the hotel i was staying at, the woman who i had met the day earlier, was again working her shift, and once again pushed me to the hotel. After such a stressful day, it was comforting to be around a kind, familiar face, and to give and receive hugs.
She’s not necessarily familiar with Metallica, but if only for brief moments, she’s represented community for me.