Explosions of emotional constipation

The lights dimmed. The chatter amongst the crowd quiets. A glow emits from the stage giving the old Orpheum architecture an orange hue. Mark Smith, Mike James, Chris Hranksy, Carlos Torres and Munaf Rayani walk onstage. A lone microphone stands before Rayani. The crowd is silent, eager for what awaits. Rayani humbly states, “We are Explosions In the Sky. Thank you for coming and listening to our music.” Explosions In The Sky is a band of few words. The post-rock band from Texas lets their music do the talking for them.

EITS opened with their ten-minute masterpiece, “The Only Moment We Were Alone.” Rayani violently struck his guitar in circular motions as the music built, leaving many audience members at the edge of their seats. The ambient melodies were overwhelming. The guitar riffs echoed through the Orpheum’s walls. For some, it was too much to handle – one man stood up and screamed “This is f****** awesome!!”

During the 90 minute set, Explosions played a few of its newer songs such as “Postcards from 1952” and “Last Known Surroundings” off their recent album Take Care, Take Care, Take Care. EITS shied away from playing its softer songs. Instead they chose to perform musical powerhouses such as “Catastrophe and The Cure.” Admittedly, this song left me with temporary hearing loss for the remainder of the night, but EITS is one of my favorite bands of all time. How can I complain?

Occasionally, I looked around to see people’s reactions. I saw a few women with their eyes closed, heads bobbing, completely consumed into the spiritual world of EITS harmonies.  Some shuffled in their seats, trying to find the proper expression for the emotions they felt. Scattered men were standing with drinks in hand, pumping their fists in unison with the beat of the drums.

EITS closed with their epic “The Moon is Down.” Hranksy slowly rolled his drumstick against the cymbal. James lightly played rifts as Smith gradually built up the tune from his guitar. The audience could sense the peak coming. Rayani dropped to the ground and attached an ebow to his guitar. (An ebow is a device that gives a guitar a continuous droning sound.) While on the ground, Rayani grabbed a tambourine and began to furiously beat it amongst the melodic chaos.

Suddenly, all of the music came together in one triumphant climax of harmonies. The cymbal, the riffs, the ebow, the guitar and the tambourine brilliantly complemented each other. And then it ended. The stage went black, the crowd erupted, finally able to express its emotional constipation. Explosions In The Sky received a standing ovation from everyone in the Orpheum. Rayani stood up and said, “Thank you everyone.” They waved and mouthed thank you, which was drowned out by the never-ending applause.

For 90 minutes, I saw what music looks like. I wish I could give you the words, but it would be like describing a color that doesn’t exist. Just as their songs contain no vocals, they left me speechless as I exited the Orpheum.