I Only Wanna Go to Church if its a Slowdive Concert
Words: Holt Daniels
December 8, 2023
On the rainy night of September 25th, a group of friends and I took the much delayed Amtrak from Providence to Boston to witness Slowdive live. Marking their renaissance into the 2020s, the classic 90s shoegaze band was on tour for their ravishing new album, everything is alive, and making a stop at Citizens House of Blues.
After joining the line which ended halfway across the Brookline Ave bridge around the corner of the venue, we found our way into the general admission floor. The crowd was made up of mostly black clothing, some Gen X grunge couples who’d likely been fans since introducing their teenage sweethearts to the band back in the 90s, a handful of bearded millennials drinking IPAs, and plenty of stylish, probably queer Gen Zers who were most definitely aware of the simultaneous Boygenius concert happening across the street at the MGM Music Hall. As my friends and I shuffled into the back left of the crowd after missing the opener Drab Majesty, we spoke about our favorite songs in eager anticipation.
To someone who’s never heard Slowdive’s music, perhaps you’ve watched Kai-Wai Wong’s film Fallen Angels. They sound like that film distilled in music form. Their music is green fluorescent lights lining the ceiling of a cool tiled street tunnel, walking alone through a desolate parking lot lit by flickering street lights, losing yourself in an after-midnight drive with the windows down, or staring at your dark bedroom ceiling contemplating your most existential thoughts in a half-awake haze. It's romantic, meditative, uncanny, and transcendent. Arguably, the band’s magic lies in their ability to express an existentialism words cannot.
Like a church procession, the five members of Slowdive graciously walked out onto the stage – Neil Halstead (vocals, guitar), Rachel Goswell (vocals, keys), Christian Savill (guitar), Nick Chaplin (bass), and Simon Scott (drums). The previously chatty crowd went momentarily silent in a collective moment of awe. It's remarkable to remember real people produce Slowdive’s otherworldly sound. Slowly the crowd began an eager, fiery cheer as the band quickly took their marks. Soon, Rachel’s keyboard synth produced the first echoing chords of the new album opener “shanty.” As the song built, adding layers of velvety guitars and watery vocals over a pulsing drum beat, I prepared myself for the swooning euphoria ahead.
Following the first song, the band transitioned into “prayer remembered,” a long, dreamy, and understated cut from the new album. I tried something new for me at a concert. I closed my eyes and let the deep, passionate layers push and pull me away as the shifting show lights moved over my eyelids. Among the deepening echoed sounds, I welcomed a friendly disassociation. I wasn’t zoning out; instead, I was entering something, somewhere greater.
The song faded out and the crowd cheered in appreciation. Taking a moment to address the crowd, Rachel commented with a laugh, “it's never not rained when we’ve come to Boston.” But she thought it set an appropriate atmosphere for welcoming them to the city. After another cheer in response, Neil broke out the opening riff of one of my favorite cuts from their self-titled album, “Star Roving.” The jangling guitar layers saturated the venue, exacting the crowd to move. My friends and I swayed our heads left and right as the repeating riff merged with other sounds to build and release. Taking it back to their debut album, the band then performed a live version of “Catch the Breeze.” The performance was much clearer than the intensely distorted recording – a testament to the three decades since its release. I wondered what it was like, at that moment, to play a song they’d performed since the band formed as fresh twenty-year-olds. Do the lyrics “you can believe everything / you can believe it all” still mean the same to them?
Playing the only song of the night from Pygmalion, Neil’s vocals took the spotlight on a rendition of “Crazy for You.” Live, the song was louder and more upfront yet still loyal to the recording’s stripped-back nature. Then came “Souvlaki Space Station,” the first song from the band’s classic album Souvlaki. When the horn-like guitar echos set in after the eighth measure, swirling yellow beam lights lit up the venue among walls of deep blue reflections, garnering a wave-like response from the crowd as we let the sounds dictate our movements. With eyes closed, it was no different than floating in deep space.
The band often shifted from song to song without a word, letting the music speak for itself. However, Neil took a moment to introduce the next song “kisses,” acknowledging it was a new song they’d especially been loving to play live. The refrain cryptically sings “kisses / born desert sun,” and the song is Slowdive at their most romantic. It sounds like spinning in an illuminated spotlight as red roses slowly fall around you. Following with another of their sweetest songs, the band broke out “Sugar for the Pill.” The song is one of their slowest building, giving space for Neil’s vocals to settle and expand among the oscillating keys and reverberating guitar plucks. It delivered an intent peacefulness live; I felt like anything at an unbalance in my life was being evened out by the music.
Then came “Slomo,” arguably one of the band’s most profoundly immersive songs. Behind an ever-ascending wave of rolling guitars, Rachel and Neil mystically sing over and over again, “You give me your heart, it's a curious thing / give me your love, it's a curious love.” It's addictive the way the bass sounds like it's stepping up and down, almost like a figure graciously walking across an ocean of sound. If I hadn’t lost myself fully in the music yet that night, I most definitely did then.
They soon played Souvlaki highlights “Alison” and “When the Sun Hits.” These were the songs I’d dreamt about seeing live; everytime I listened to the recordings, I yearned to find a way to submerge myself deeper in their sounds. During “Alison,” Neil crooned “Alison, I said, we’re sinking,” over the siren-like guitar layers. I sunk with them. Then, as the band broke out the dance-like beginning guitar riff of “When the Sun Hits,” the crowd roared in anticipation for the moment. Neil sang, “It matters where you are…,” and that unforgettable guitar melody of the refrain hit. It's in moments like these, Slowdive's name makes the most sense. Their music carefully builds and then at the perfect moment, the full transcendent effect hits. In that moment you feel you’ve dove into an ocean of intense reverberations. You experience a slow dive – it's otherworldly.
Lastly came an extended nine-minute version of “Golden Hair” to close out the main set. The performance began with Rachel’s angelic vocals floating over quietly shifting guitar plucks. Around the three minute mark, Rachel exited the stage as the rest of the band began the slow, longing build to the song’s climax. The sounds gradually washed over me like gentle ocean waves arriving on the sand as high tide approaches. Deep into the performance, walls of sound powerfully rumbled through the venue, and the song reached its loudest. I’m not religious, but I imagine that moment is what the Rapture would sound like.
The remaining band members walked off the stage after a few thank you’s to the crowd for coming to the show. We cheered in response with gratitude and hopes of an encore. Sure enough, the band soon filed back out onto the stage with smiles on their faces to play three more songs. First came “the slab,” the explosive closer from their new album. It began with a booming echo of sounds over a repeating drum kick. As the measures go on, the band adds layer upon layer of crisp distortion to create a sound that feels like it's bubbling up, rising exponentially. Then, marking the most stripped down moment of the night, Neil played with a slow strum of his guitar the beloved “Dagger,” aided only by a quiet cymbal ringing every so often. With a gentle water-like projection floating across the stage, everyone's eyes were on Neil. The quiet, bittersweet love song held just as much power as their loudest. And finally, to close the show, the band played the roaring “40 Days.” It was loud, immersive, and transcendent. I reached a level of spirituality that could only be found at a Slowdive concert.