DCFC in the flesh

A few years ago, I made a sweeping declaration: there are only two “living” bands that I would see live – Dashboard Confessional and Death Cab for Cutie. This year, the clouds above opened up (let out the Atlantic like the Translanticism song goes) and sent both Dashboard and Death Cab to the Philippines. On the same week! I swear that peeking through the silver linings, the gods are smiling down at me.

I rarely call myself a fan, but with Death Cab, I have no qualms with calling myself one. Back in college, writing/reading workshops would end with Trina’s carbonara shared in circles while we listen to Postal Service and Death Cab in ate Karize and Franco’s apartment. I remember treading the hilly way to the library and through the lines of What Sarah Said with Franco – deeming it too great to be sung, we recited it. One of the poems in my thesis was based on What Sarah Said, and another was written during a writing prompt spanning the length of the instrumentals to I Will Possess Your Heart. Death Cab is one of those bands I can listen to all day, and I remember doing just that until Chase has memorized the lines to Soul Meets Body. I am without a doubt, a fan.

Hence, dying almost as soon as Ben Gibbard went on stage. Despite this long entry, I am still at a loss for words and couldn’t possibly fully express what happened or how I felt during the concert, just that I was trembling the entire time (and I’m sure it wasn’t because the music was too loud). I hauled myself up on the railings, and was balancing on thin metal bars throughout the 2 hours of pure joy. We were among the first to enter the premise and this secured us a spot nearest the VIP section (only railings between us). I don’t care that I didn’t get near Ben Gibbard like I did with The Pains. I don’t care that there’s 40feet-worth of fans in heavy trance between us. Knowing that I was in the same room with his brilliance was enough to send me to tears. When I Will Follow You Into The Dark played, I exchanged with Ica and stood by ate Karize. She rested her head on my shoulder and I wrapped my arms around her and I really felt like crying. When they returned on stage for the encore, the entire stage was in darkness. A spotlight shone over the piano where Ben Gibbard played Transatlanticism (one of my absolute favorites) and I swear that at that moment, I knew that I couldn’t possibly be anywhere else.

None would give justice to how awesome this experience was, but I’m forever thankful that Steph managed to sneak in her camera to take these beautiful shots to remember this concert by:

I’m glad I didn’t get tickets to Cranberries and Taking Back Sunday just yet. I feel like I’m solved with Death Cab for now, like I’d get by without watching any more concerts for the next 20 years. Another sweeping declaration, people.