Slowdive Fanzine article, "The Best Blue Day"

*The following piece is set to appear in Virginia Davila’s Holding Our Breath fanzine. All photos/artwork are by the author. It was written last October, in recap of Slowdive’s 2014/10/25 show at Terminal 5 in New York, NY. It is being posted on the internet for the first time, by the author. Under his original pseudonym, for your enjoyment. Enjoy!

“The Best Blue Day”

By Jestoon

(Image: “Sunshine Girl,” Copics on Bristol © 2014 Jesse Mullen)

Slowdive were simply amazing.

They performed both “Dagger” and “Rutti.” (The songs that they would normally switch out each night on the tour.)

“Dagger” was performed in a manner similar to the original electric 1992 demo, displaying the jaw dropping beauty and poetry of Halstead’s lyrics, which cast such a vivid image, that I based a drawing off of them. The crowd was a mix of New York hipsters, passionate shoegazers, and young fans who were enthralled with the wall of sound. (I met a 12 year old in the merch line, who was grinning ear to ear, and reminded me that the effect that sound has on a music worshipper is universal, no matter what age.)

Embarrassingly, I was not familiar with opener Low, although their set was a fascinating mix of shoegaze, dreampop, and post-rock. I’ll definitely be buying their records. The rest of the Slowdive set was filled with the usual staples, and some of the early EP tracks (If you're reading this, Neil, Rachel, Simon, Nick and Christian, please add “Shine” to your set. Thanks. x)

By the time they walked off, the clock on the wall at stage right read 10:30.

They closed their regular set with “Golden Hair” (“The shortest version we’ve ever done,” quipped Rachel. it still seemed plenty long to me, in my half-blazed state.)

They came back, and closed with “40 Days,” which Rachel said “Thanks very much,” and they walked off while a sample of it played on endless loop.

After the show, when I was about to leave in my car, it hit me that they might still be around. I went around the block to the back of the venue, and waited by their van for about 15 minutes. A small crowd had gathered, and a man that worked for Terminal 5 said “if they're not out by 11:30, call them out.” Could they be arriving soon? My body was shaking, and my heart was beating out of my chest. My blood turned to ice. Finally, two roadies came out with roadcases. And then I saw them. Neil was wearing a folded baseball cap, and smoking a cigarette of a brand I’m not familiar with. Rachel had put her hair up, and put on a golden jacket, apparently the one she had worn at Primavera Sound. She had a cigarette, but no lighter. Hers had dried up. By this point Neil had begun mingling with other fans, and was in no position to offer her a light. I hastily retrieved mine from my pocket, and introduced myself. She lit her cigarette, thanked me, and handed it back. I was in total awe. I’m keeping it forever. Next, I walked up to Neil. “Hey,” I said. Neil shook my hand. “Do you know when the Zurich record comes out?” “I don’t know,” he said, smiling, in his reassuringly calm, soft-spoken voice. “It may get a reissue someday.” I shakily pulled my notepad, my inkjet ticket with the coffee stain on it, and Pilot G2 out of my pocket and asked if he minded signing them. “Not at all,” he said warmly, Reading accent showing through. “Thanks.” I hastily gathered my thoughts. If I wanted to say something to him, now was my only chance. “Pygmalion came out the year I was born, so I missed you guys the first time around, and I’m really glad to have you back.” “Thank you.” “And I’m really glad you’re finally getting your due credit.” “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.” He seemed genuinely moved by the last part. I said goodnight to both of them, and walked away in tears, knowing that no concert experience would ever top it.