Two Nights of Twiddle in Westport, CT

Relax and Dream

Seeing a band you may not be familiar with always raises the question: "Do I really belong here or not?" It can be intimidating sometimes, especially if the person you attend the show with knows all their songs by heart. However, because of this past weekend, I have come to realize that fans of certain bands will not judge you for being clueless, or feeling lost. Fans of the band Twiddle are some of the most accepting, down-to-earth humans that I have experienced in a very long time. Let's face it, it can be scary going to see a band you've never seen before, yet there is always something magical about seeing those musicians step out on stage while the crowd around you comes to life. 

    I was a bit nervous going to see Twiddle, mainly because my friend Sam, who is a huge fan, was going with me. I felt a little lost, and feared I would be very out of place at the venue. On the drive to Westport, CT on Friday, July 29th, I  was plagued with thoughts of possibly not enjoying my time there due to the fact that I couldn't consider myself a fan. To me live music is always a time where I believe the world stops for a while, so I didn't know why I was so nervous. Twiddle is a pretty well-known band compared to the bands I often go to see, so I was convinced that their fans would be able to tell if I wasn't one. 

    The closer we got to the venue, the more my brain swelled with anticipation. Sam blasted Twiddle the whole car ride there, and I prayed I'd at least remember one song besides Jamflowman or Doinkinbonk. Even those two didn't particularly etch their way into a memory within me, and I often lost track of where the jams ended up. 

    After checking into our room a little early, and bonding with the friendly man at the front desk, Sam and I ventured off to the Levitt Pavillion which stood only 15 minutes from our hotel. Crossing a bridge brought us to the outskirts of the venue, and for a while we fought for parking. It seemed every empty spot we eyed was immediately stolen from us by other concert-goers. I expected to have trouble with this, and after a while of combing through lot after lot, we finally found a reliable spot we could call our own. 

    The Pavillion stood tall against the clouds and stinging sun; their reflections bouncing off of the Saugatuck River that flowed beside us. The floor of the venue was grass, with rows of camping chairs set up, and happy faces beaming from each one. Barefoot, tie-dye adorned concert-goers with beads hanging from their necks and wrists mingled proudly amongst each other. I lost count of how many "Twiddle" shirts I read, and continued to feel out of place in my plain pink top. Even Sam flaunted a blue band shirt that he had bought at a New Year's Eve show a few years back. A railing stood a bit away from the stage, indicating that only people with VIP tickets were able to get past the barrier. I found a spot right behind the railing and we stood there until the opener went on. 

Aerial Shot of Westport's Levitt Pavillion

   

     The first opener was Mihali, who is also the singer and guitarist of Twiddle. Having just released his newest solo album "Effection," I knew that fans at the venue were looking forward to hearing him live. I had heard a couple songs off the album, and was eager to hear him play. 

    The scattered crowd applauded as Mihali bounced onto the stage that was littered with colorful instruments and amps, and placed himself upfront among an array of microphones and guitars. He sported a lilac shirt that hung over tie-dyed pants, and smiled gleefully from his tightly packed spot. As he began his set, I ended up finding myself making friends with a friendly baby who was sitting with her parents on the other side of the railing. They were in the VIP section, but it didn't stop the little girl from constantly turning around to make sure I was dancing along with her. I sat on the grass so we could be eye-level with each other, and she came over to hold my hand a few times in between blowing me kisses. In the moment I didn't realize, but this sweet little girl showed me the true innocence of loving music simply because it makes you feel a certain way. You do not need to be a true fan or know every song to belong in the crowd, you just need to understand the language of what you are all listening to. Music is universal, and although I already knew this, it wasn't until this little stranger was able to show me firsthand that I was able to believe. 

Mihali on stage 

  

  After Mihali's set, which was full of his new songs and a beautiful cover of Dave Matthews' song "Grey Street," Sam and I hit the food trucks and merch tables with the downtime that we had before the next band went on. Every merch table sold heaps of tie-dyed band shirts, posters, headbands, glass pipes, and pins. I got lost in the colors a few times. As we waited for food, the second band's instruments echoed across the lawn and into the parking lot where we stood. I immediately froze at the pulsating, heaviness of the drums that split through the humid July air. I told Sam I needed to go see the band, and he happily told me to go, promising to catch up with me once our order was ready. 

    Darting up the stairs and down towards the stage, I slowly focused on who stood before me. There were three people on stage; two men and a woman. This was probably one of the first times in my life that I'd seen a woman drummer perform live. Her teal drum set practically wrapped around her, and she crashed her symbols with such emotion. The woman's voice blended with the guitarist's, who also seemed to be the lead singer. The band was called The Nth Power, and they performed with such strength that I thought the ceiling of the stage would collapse. After a while, Sam ended up finding me sitting in the grass, and we watched in awe from the ground as this band's talent unfolded before us. Their set was short, but their songs held so much power that goosebumps continually appeared across my body due to the sheer emotion they pulled from within me. The sun blazed brightly as the band ended their set, and the only remaining act was Twiddle. 

The Nth Power

    The venue filled quickly, and before I knew it, I was shoulder to shoulder with people who seemed to have appeared out of thin air. I ended up sitting down on the grass again, a little overwhelmed at where this sudden collection of people had come from. Nevertheless, Twiddle quietly emerged from the wings of the stage and the crowd illuminated like the start of a new day. Music seemed to envelop the people standing around me, and no matter how they danced, they never seemed off beat. I watched children jump and flip in the grass, and 70-year-old women twirl their skirts and dresses around like wings. Mothers and fathers swayed holding their babies, while young couples held hands and spun to the colorful aura of Mihali's electric guitar. The crowd was a sea of smiles. 

    As if the fans had borrowed too much light from the sun, clouds silently began to darken the sky, and rain moistened the ground we all stood atop. In search of some shelter, Sam and I, and many other concert-goers, began to make our way up to the merch and drink tents in the back of the lawn. We stood under the tents for a while and watched the crowd cheer and dance in the storm. Despite the weather, Twiddle played as if the sky were full of sunshine and rainbows, and I'm sure a lot of people that were there believed just that. 

    Having been at the venue since 3:00pm, Sam and I wanted to avoid the promising traffic that loomed in the near future. We headed back to our hotel around 8:30pm, not realizing that Twiddle had planned on performing two sets that night. They were only just getting started. 

The venue in the rain

  

     The next day, Sam and I did not get to the show until 7:00pm. We had explored surrounding areas in Connecticut for a portion of the day, and planned on staying for both of Twiddle's sets instead of accidentally leaving halfway through. As we stepped out of the car after having an even harder time finding parking, we could hear Twiddle playing Jamflowman in the distance. We nervously stared at each other, having just read that Twiddle wasn't supposed to go on until 8:00pm. The two of us raced towards the venue, not wanting to waste an extra second of the show. We weaved in and out of groups of people, leapt up staircases, and sprinted across parking lots desperately hoping we'd at least catch some of the song. Thankfully, we reached the lawn just in time and Twiddle fell into a heavy jam driven solely by their bassist Zdenek Gubb. Jamflowman lasted for 10 or so minutes, and Sam and I grooved to the music alongside hundreds of others. There seemed to be more attendees than the prior day, and although the venue was packed, I dragged Sam down to the barrier that separated VIP from general admission. A drone hovered above us, a photographer shot a photo of me, and once again we were surrounded by a sea of smiles. This time, I felt a stronger sense of belonging, and without any shame, I swayed to the unfamiliar music that pulsated through everyone else's veins. Each jam flowed into the next, seemingly creating a never-ending song that could only be described as a poetic spectacle of hope - symbolizing that life still goes on. Minutes felt like seconds, and the band's light show glowed peacefully above the stage where the four members stood. I remembered the little girl I had met the day before, and danced for her. 

    The band took a break, and the crowd dispersed. Sam and I returned to the food trucks, and just as quickly as Twiddle left the stage, they came back on. While their music rang out from the lawn in the darkening sky, Sam and I sat in the parking lot and scarfed down a hot meal. 

    The stage glowed neon pink and purple when we returned to the lawn. Something about it felt magical, and I watched the shadows of the crowd dance in the dark night from where we stood under the tents. In this moment, I felt as though I could've flown above the audience and danced with the stars. The sky was black, and it listened with excitement to the stories the band told through music. My mind flooded full of childlike wonder as I stood amongst the people, and stars, and moon which sat above as if it were a squinting eyeball - an all-seeing eye. Everything, it seemed, was listening. 

The Pavillion at night

    The band played on, and to avoid traffic, we left the show early. Having been able to witness both sets on the second night, Sam and I walked to the car giddy with remaining excitement. 

    As someone who truly enjoys attending concerts, this was my first time attending a concert for a larger-known band that I hadn't really listened to prior. I hesitantly went into this experience not knowing if I was going to feel like I belonged there or not. Despite my initial fears, I quickly learned that it isn't about labeling yourself as a fan, but rather letting yourself become familiar with the music itself. Music is a universal language that we are all able to understand, and being a fan is just a perk. If it hadn't been for that little girl that made me feel so welcome, I might've not understood the true lesson of attending this concert. We are all capable of tuning into the true language of music, it all depends on if we are willing to listen. 

-Avery