In high school, and for a few years after, I had a friend who we will call “Dave.” Dave loved music and downloaded tens of thousands of albums for free, because that is what most people did at the turn of the millennium. Today its the streaming companies ripping off the artists.
Anyway, Dave downloaded just about everything. Stuff he enjoyed like Opeth, Nightwish or whatever else fit in that genre. When we first became friends he was big into the first Avenged Sevenfold album and Evanescence. In the summer of 2007, he downloaded Bon Iver’s “For Emma, Forever Ago.”
When Dave told me about it, the story is what a lot of people first hear about Bon Iver aka Justin Vernon. The artist wrote and recorded the album in a cabin, alone in the Wisconsin woods. It’s a great story but I did not need it to like that first LP. It was intimate and interesting. It pulled me away from my punk atmosphere. So, in March of 2008, we made the short drive out of Canton, Ohio to Cleveland to see Bon Iver at The Grog Shop.
That was not the “collaborating with Kanye West, Taylor Swift and Charli XCX” Bon Iver. No, Vernon opened for prog rock outfit Black Mountain. I remember vividly how much people around the bar talked during Vernon’s set, probably because of how much I was annoyed. I ripped down a poster from the show, as is the responsibility of anyone who likes little trinkets to remember moments in life.
I do not have many “I saw them before they hit it big” moments — except Bon Iver. I needed more music from Vernon.
Three months later I got married. In January of 2009, I listened to Bon Iver’s “Blood Bank” EP. Later that year my wife and I welcomed the first of three children. After that came a 16-year blur of life.
Having mouths to feed on a single income makes it easy to discard buying new music or going to concerts, and ripping off artists was more of Dave’s thing.
Bon Iver popped up in my life when I heard he was working with Kanye. Then, in 2020, his voice popped up when my wife and two older kids listened to Swift’s “Evermore” and “Folklore,” but it was not until this year that I listened to him again on my own.
Monday night, I headed to downtown Columbus, over 18 years since I first head Vernon, to talk about the newest Bon Iver project “SABLE, fABLE” at The Album Club. I wrote about this kickoff session of the monthly music meetup last week for Columbus Calling and I had every intention of going as a spectator.
To be honest, I was nervous. I am one of those introverted extroverts who loves the idea of doing things but when the rubber hits the road I often pull over to the side and call a tow truck back home. I almost did Monday night and I am glad I pushed through.
“I can handle
Way more than I can handle”
Those lyrics from “AWARDS SEASON” sat with me as I listened to “SABLE, fABLE” over the last week. Now, on a Monday night in the Short North, at The Scatter Joy Project, I had to talk about this album that I listened to earlier this year but did not give the attention it deserved. As is usually the case in my life, I crammed for the rest in the days leading up to the first night of The Album Club.
Once I walked in, there was no turning back, and I’m glad I fought back the urge to do just that. After I stood around for a few minutes, twiddled my thumbs and stared at my phone, desperately hoping nobody talked to me, Alex Lewis kicked off the night and had us set up small groups to discuss.
I met Conner and Jess, two folks who came to the event together and sat in the corner. We were the smallest group in the room, but we connected over Lewis’ engaging questions. We talked about how Conner just started listening to Vernon, my own experience and hiatus listening and Jess went through detailed notes that made me jealous of the attention to detail that is impossible for me.
After each of the four segments of conversation, groups took turns sharing their findings. After 10 years of corporate training, I felt at ease sharing for the group on a couple occasions, more at ease than when I walked in 20 minutes earlier. Back then, I walked in thinking I had nothing of value to share.
As is the case with music, everyone that shared brought a different perspective. There wasn’t nerves about repeating someone else because it never happened. Each group showed the uniqueness of the people in the club. Every cluster of music fans had different perspectives to share. The number of moments of “wow, I didn’t think about that” was why I wanted to attend in the first place.
For example, a simple question about the design of the album cover made me think of the album differently. The basic design matching a more straightforward album than the layered albums that preceded it. Or how the homework shared by Lewis unlocked how Vernon’s return to Wisconsin to write music made “SABLE, fABLE” resemble “For Emma, Forever Ago” and how the album’s theme of coming out of the darkness connected to that return to the familiar. How going back helped break through.
The album talk itself fosters conversation and relationship but the non-album talk was equally valuable, maybe more. Since we had a smaller group, we could share about our lives outside of cabins in Eau Claire, Wisconsin.
When I asked the duo if I could join in with them, I did not know they were rugby players with the Columbus Squirrels, a division one professional team here in Central Ohio. On top of that we had mutual friends from my work writing about sports like women’s basketball and rugby.
I won’t share all of the conversation because this is not the place for it. It lives in the room and in the in-person group chats.
At the end of the night, we got our next album and I told Jess and Conner it was nice meeting them, with a tone of finality coming out of my mouth. They caught it and reminded me that I would see them next month. There will be a lot less anxiety on December 1.
