Saturday the 23rd. My sons had pestered me for months: “Can we go, Can we go???” I shyly asked “Earshakerday? Will it be as bad as it sounds.” Answer: “We sure hope so”. OK. Earplugs would be a mandate. We went to Basel, the festival was starting round noon and was supposed to end at 1:30 at night.
So, there we were. This slightly rumbling sensation I thought I had felt when still on the motorway boded ill. Yessss, it was coming straight from the Hall. The boys’ faces lighted up very much like when they used to think they heard Santa. Eons ago.
“Moooommmmm let me listen without earplugs just for a minute.”-”No, I catch you at that, you’re grounded and the Iphone will be in the safe for at least six weeks.”-”Aaaawwww Mooooom!!!!”-”You choose. Earplugs we stay, no earplugs, we leave!”
I kid you not: This was 12 hrs plus of a solid wall of 100db noise. And I kid you not: I thoroughly enjoyed it. I made camp on the ranks next to the stage and watched. My heart melted when I saw the delicate arms of my 13 year old raised to devil horns and his blond hair flipping while head banging, right in the thick of it. And my usually very shy 15 year old being a man amongst the other men, going through all the rituals, moshpit and all.
And, surprisingly enough, I liked the music, too. And the audience. Contrary to my fears they were all really very wild, but still peaceful, too. And some of them had the most wicked tattoos I’ve ever seen in my life.
After I was home, however, I still decided next time the boys could go by themselves and I will act my age, have a cup of tea and watch a “Poirot” movie. Still, this was one of the best days I had in a long time.
This is our daily moshpit. Get going.