No, this post isn’t about the weather (even if it has been unseasonably cold lately).  On Saturday, I had a long-cherished dream come true for me, and I want to tell you all about it.  This is a completely rambling and self-indulgent post, so buckle up.

I saw The Decemberists!  I have been listening, dancing, and living to the beat of Colin Meloy, Jenny Conlee, Nate Query, Chris Funk and John Moen for [lucky] thirteen years now – they’re my favorite band (or at least my favorite currently-active band, since my beloved R.E.M. betrayed me by breaking up before I got to see them play live) but I never thought I’d actually get to see them in person.  Until January, when I realized that they’d be making a stop at the Anthem in D.C. on their Your Girl / Your Ghost tour.  Tickets for the VIP fan experience went on sale two days later and I was READY.

The VIP experience was incredible and worth every penny of the more expensive ticket price.  It started at 4:00 p.m. with sound check, then the band played two songs for the fans and answered a bunch of questions (no one asked them what their favorite books were, which was disappointing, but one person asked what musical they would like to put on – since their songs are very melodramatic and theatrical – and they answered Jesus Christ Superstar).

There were only a handful of people with VIP tickets, so it was a really fun and intimate way to engage with the band.  I was there on my own – Steve was waiting for the babysitter, and was joining me for the concert later, and I was sad he missed it, because he would have loved it.

I was basically weeping with the joy of being less than ten feet from Colin Meloy.  You guys.  I WAS LESS THAN TEN FEET FROM COLIN MELOY.

They played The Crane Wife, Part 3, which is one of my favorite songs – and an old one, from their 2006 album.  I started listening to The Decemberists in 2005, so The Crane Wife was the first album of theirs that I bought on release day, and I fell hard and fast for it.  Hearing The Crane Wife, Part 3 played live LESS THAN TEN FEET FROM MY EARS (we do need to keep focusing on that part) was a thrill I never expected to experience.

After the “VIP fan experience” was over, we were ushered out of the venue and back into the rather disorienting sunlight, and told that we’d be getting a fifteen minute head start on the rest of the crowd if we came back to the VIP door before showtime.  Since the floor was flat and our tickets were for general admission, this was a very big deal to 5’0″ me.  My miniature self was not going to see anything unless I was right at Colin’s feet.  So I made it my mission to be one of the first people into the venue.  I spent a few minutes poking around Politics & Prose, then grabbed a sandwich, called Steve and got in line by the VIP door.  Steve arrived around 6:00 to join me in line, and we were about the fourteenth and fifteenth people into the venue.  I made a break for the stage and secured a spot along the front railing.  Mission accomplished.

Before long, the general admission doors opened and the folks poured in.  It’s funny, because whenever I make the mistake of mentioning my love for The Decemberists to my friends and family, I’m invariably met with blank stares, and sometimes a “Who?!”  But clearly, there are other Decemberists fans in D.C.  I was with my people.

Two things: (1) the Anthem is a super cool new performance venue!  We loved it and will definitely be back – not in a month for Fleet Foxes, as cool as that would be, but we will be back; and (2) you know you’re at a Decemberists concert when a not-insubstantial percentage of the crowd whips their books out while waiting for the opening band and between acts.  I saw a lot of mystery novels – unsurprising, given the band’s fondness for singing about murder and espionage – including a British edition of Dorothy L. Sayers in the row behind me; its owner and I engaged in an animated conversation about the importance of having one’s books match on the shelf.  And then it was time to put the books away, because–

Colin!  Jenny!  Nate!  My face made lots of excited noises.

You guys. It was. The show. Of a lifetime. They played all but one of the songs off their new album, I’ll Be Your Girl – which delighted me, because I have been listening to it pretty much nonstop since it dropped, and I really love it. (It doesn’t top 2011’s The King is Dead, for me, but nothing could. It’s close, though.) But they mixed in a ton of old stuff, too – Rox in the Box from The King is Dead; The Shankill Butchers, O Valencia! and Yankee Bayonet from The Crane Wife, and more. (Colin introduced Yankee Bayonet by asking the crowd “Who wants to hear a ghost story?” and then – not getting the wild cheers he was clearly expecting – “That was kind of a tepid response. What if it’s a Civil War ghost story?”) And there was a spirited rendition of The Bagman’s Gambit, which was a huge hit with the crowd because, dude, D.C. – the lines “on the steps of the Capitol” and “I was working for the government” and “in a bathroom stall off the National Mall” got the biggest cheers.  (Colin even stopped singing to reflect: “You guys really like bathroom stalls.  I don’t even know if there are bathroom stalls off the National Mall.  Are there?  Or did the Republicans take them away?”)

The band’s audience interaction was really on point.  After the final chord of Cutting Stone died away, Colin mused, “The last song was about a cutting stone but this next one is about cutting… people.”  Sensing mayhem of the Shankill Butchers variety, the crowd roared.  “I thought you’d like that,” Colin deadpanned back.  Later on, he announced that we were going to have “a little State of the Union” before launching into Everything is Awful, which he turned into a call-and-response concluding with “A heterosexual white male telling you that things are awful!” – to which the crowd sang back “la da da da da, la da da da AWFUL!”

They also had the whole venue singing along to Sons and Daughters, another old favorite; “it’s really better as a singalong with as many people as possible; let’s sing so loud they hear us on Capitol Hill,” Colin urged, and then seven thousand people sang in one voice, “hear all the bombs, they fade away,” and I don’t think I was the only one who was moved to tears.

I’m going on and on and on – and on – here, but this concert was a dream come true for me.  Or not even a dream come true, because even in my wildest concertgoing dreams, I don’t have a spot right by the stage.  And the best part was – the band gained another fan on Saturday.  Steve was vaguely aware of their existence, mainly from listening when I occasionally turn them on in the car.  (They’re my go-to music for all occasions, but I generally only inflict my own taste on Steve when I think I can definitely get away with it, i.e., when I’m on the way to the hospital to have a baby.)  But he was cramming for the show, listening to their newest album and really liking it, for the month leading up to the concert – and when we left the venue, his grin was almost as big as mine.  (He did say it was the chillest concert he’d ever been to, which I chose to take as a compliment.)  I’m telling you, guys.  There’s something about this band, when they can create a brand-new fan with a full night of sea shanties, Civil War ballads, and working in vocab like liminal, augur, tryst, purloined and dirigible – all words they sang on Saturday.

It also didn’t hurt that they performed Ben Franklin’s Song, lyrics by Lin-Manuel Miranda, and sent to Meloy by Miranda after Ben was cut from Hamilton.  Lin wrote the words, Colin and the folks wrote the music.  Because, according to Colin, “Lin-Manuel Miranda gets whatever he wants,” and “he apparently wanted Ben Franklin’s Song to be Decemberist-y.”  Steve is a huge #Hamilfan, and this gave The Decemberists instant cred.  And they’ve been featured on our favorite show, Parks and Recreation, which sealed the deal.  Well – actually, I think their new song, Severed, was what really sealed the deal for Steve.  But I don’t care what it was – my husband now loves my favorite band.  That’s good enough for me.

I told you this was going to be self-indulgent.  But I can’t stop myself waxing rhapsodic about this band.  They have been the soundtrack to my life for thirteen years.  I’ve spent a lot of time belting out their songs in the car, dancing to them on the rare occasions I’m home alone, and hearing Colin Meloy’s voice in my head at every epic moment in my adult life.  (Except for law school graduation, which was narrated by The Shins.  But that’s a story for another day.)

So I’ll leave this long, rambling love letter to The Decemberists as they left us, with The Mariner’s Revenge Song, the finale from Saturday night (and I suspect the finale of every concert, because what a way to go out, right?).  I highly recommend watching this whole video.  But if you only have a few minutes to spare, fast-forward to about minute 6.  Right before the “screaming like you’re being swallowed by a whale” begins.

What’s your favorite band?  How much do we love The Decemberists?