Belle, Sebastian and Me

The Paramount Theater is in Seattle.

I am wearing a mask on the road with my favorite band. I have been beaten up a bit by the world over the last couple years, but that is nothing compared to what others have gone through. I have to leave. I am following a band from Scotland down the west coast of America.

I reside in Seattle. The band's presence in my life maps directly onto my motherhood as my grown children come along. When my first child was small, I discovered them. The voice of the lead singer, Stuart Murdoch, accompanied me over the next two decades, ringing out as I drove the school run in my VW van.

Is it appropriate to say "lisping out"? Sometimes, the singer lisps, but if you know anything about Belle and Sebastian, you know they're not all that funny. They are going to be on their grave with that. When I was a kid, I didn't think I'd end up here. As the years go by, I believe I am lucky to love anything at all. I do not understand why I adore them.

I know where to stand at the rail stage because I have seen them many times.

The band files out at the Paramount after the kids and I line up. There are seven in the band and a few local musicians. The violin player is out with Covid. When the audience jumps onstage with them, they don't do their traditional rave up dance party. I feel cut off from the experience because they are all here. My eyes are looking for people who might expose me and my kids to the virus.

My own story is the focus of my attention. I'm not quite here.

The Roseland Theater is in Portland.

I have some time to reflect, not necessarily a good state of affairs. When you don't have a lot to think about, it's a better time to reflect. In the last two years, I have sold the family home, nursed my father to death in the midst of a Covid-ridden hospital, and ended my marriage. I try not to think about them as I drive the freeway.

I met my boyfriend in Portland, a person who was married for 20 years. He has made fun of me about my love for B & S. He wants to go to some shows, but I worry he won't get it. That is the reason I love this band.

Young queer couples, middle-aged former punks, families with little kids are just some of the types of people that Roseland has to offer. I am too embarrassed by my tendency to insist that we move to the other side that my boyfriend angles us to a spot stage left. Middle-aged white men who show their band love by accruing details about set lists and venues are the kind of people I talk to.

Sarah is here again. There is a small venue. Stuart is near that location. I feel like a miracle when I see a band I love, they have flown out of your car speaker or earbuds and are now in your eyes. Stuart is sitting on the edge of the stage. He looks like an animal. He rhymes the verse to "Piazza, New York Catcher" A man is leaning on me. Two young people in front of us are holding each other's hands. We can't believe our luck.

My boyfriend pulls his mask down and says, "I loved that" when we walk out into the night.

The Fox Theater is in Oakland in June of 2022.

There is a dream of sunshine and Starbucks along the way to Oakland. Since the beginning of the Pandemic, this is the road trip I've been avoiding. I only need a single day of being and I am starting to feel more human. My boyfriend Spotifies his way through the catalog as we drive, with the fervor of a newly converted musician.

I sit at the rail at the Fox. The band performs on the stage. There is a strange exchange between band and audience at their best shows, it makes you feel like you are part of their project. The other people are in the band. I forget my fears because I forget to be annoyed by the other audience members. I lost myself in the fans.

People are dancing and singing on the sidewalk. My granny used to tell me what it was like to be out among others. The world feels happy.

We go to the de Young the next day to see a painting show. In midlife, Neel burst into creativity. Her work became wicked, funny, and vibrant in the 70s. People wearing violet scarves are in her paintings. The galleries have a spectacle of endless difference. The show is called " people come first".

The reason of my love is the people of my world. The ungovernable characters in their songs are Jane, who gets a dose of thrush from licking railings, Judy, who fantasizes about horses, and Hillary and Anthony, who kill themselves because they are.

Over the last few years, my world has become harder to navigate. My soul has shrunk as a result of divorce and death. Even as I walked alone through my difficulties, trying to solve every problem through sheer force of my solitary will, Belle and Sebastian have kept me company, with the characters they've invented, and with the performance of collaboration that defines the band One of their oldest songs says, "we're not terrific, but we're competent." Even when I was trying to do everything myself, they were still my boon companions. People come first.

We have tickets to shows in Southern California, but we'll stop in San Francisco for a while. We've got what we wanted. We are older to be driving that far.

The column explores a moment in a writer's life. She is the author of "Love and Trouble" and "Poser: My Life in Twenty-three Yoga Poses."