Monotonix

There are times in my life when I will do things based on instinct alone. Although I don’t always know to trust it, instinct is a powerful tool. If we would only listen to it.

For instance, moving to California was sort of an instinct. I somehow just knew we would find jobs, a place to stay, friends, etc. We were completely unprepared for that kind of move, except for the cash, clothes, and guitar strapped to our back. But it felt right, and we went with it. Literally.

There have also been times when I’ve ignored my instinct. After visiting a friend in Spain, I kept telling my friend I was nervous about my flight home. But I was only nervous about one part. The short part, from Barcelona to Amsterdam. It made no sense.

The anxiety over the flight got so extreme that as I stood in the airport waiting for my boarding pass I even considered changing my flight. I felt crazy, having flown a thousand times, but I just did not have a good feeling about this. I was panicking. But, I played it cool, refusing to turn into Devin Sawa in Final Destination, freaking out and running off a plane just before it blew up. If my plane was going to blow up, I might as well blow up with it. Or rather, I convinced myself, the plane as clearly not going to blow up.

At the end of the flight I woke up to the sound of the pilot gravely speaking over the intercom in Dutch. He spoke for a long time, his voice extremely forlorn and the faces around twisting with fear. Finally he spoke English. Something was wrong at the Amsterdam airport and we wouldn’t be able to land. He didn’t know if we would ever be able to land, in fact, and we might have to reroute to another country. He would continue to circle with the rest of the planes hovering over the non-landable airport.

At that moment I had never been more acutely aware of how strong instinct really can be. As my body went into a full-fledged panic attack, I swore to myself that if I ever made it off the plane alive, I would never ignore my instincts again. Ten minutes later, the pilot gleefully instructed the flight crew to prepare for landing, and all was right in the world.

This past Sunday as I was checking my MySpace page I was faced with my instinct once again. TSI had posted a bulletin for a performance that night by the Israeli rock band Monotonix. I knew nothing about the band, didn’t even bother to listen to any of their songs, but something inside of me clicked. I had to go to this show. It was raining. I was tired. No one else wanted to go with me. I even got into a small tiff with my boyfriend in order to get him to tag along. All the while, I never once questioned my motivation for wanting to go to this show.

Turns out, it was one of the most amazing shows I have ever seen live in my entire life. The power that came out of this trio was absolutely mind blowing, an unavoidable force that sucked in every single person in the bar. They were everywhere, figuratively and literally. They filled the space between each breath and between each moment between that. Hands and fists pumped the air. Every song was met by a screaming ovation. The excitement for the band connected each one of us, making the audience more like one solid entity than individual people. I felt like I was on some sort of weird, mysterious rock drug.

Throughout their performance the lead singer, Ami, continued to move the drum kit around the venue. During their final song, the audience helped Ami move the drum kit one final time. Onto the bar. While the drummer continued to play. One minute he was on the ground, the next on a chair, and then as if by magic, on top of the bar. And he never missed a beat.
I told my boyfriend, over cheap PBR’s and huge grins, that I would never forget that night. He agreed. Everything else had melted away. It was just one of those moments. And as if the moment itself were not enough, Yonatan, the guitarist, popped up in front of us.

“Do you think we could crash at your place?” he asked humbly through a thick Isreali accent. Justin and I looked at each other for a split second.

“Of course,” we said, simultaneously.

And there it was. I had assumed my instinct was pulling me towards this bar, this show, this band because it was simply one of the most amazing shows I would ever see. But at that moment it all became clear.

We took them to the house. When I showed them the guest bedroom Yonatan said, “This room is available?”

“Yes,” I said. “This is where two of you will be sleeping.”

“Noooooooo,” he said, a small grin peeping out the side of his mouth. “I’m getting to bed!” He ran into the living room and grabbed his things quicker than a five year old at a sleepover. He’d found the best spot.

We spent the night mostly talking to Ran, the drummer. Ami crashed in the bedroom with Yonatan a half hour after arriving and that was the last we saw of them. But Ran stayed up. We drank Naty Lights, shared cigarettes, and talked about the Holy Land.

Ran asked us what we thought about life. He had a son. Was it worth the dream to be gone so long? Or were family and friends worth sacrificing the one other thing that made him feel alive?

My boyfriend and I knew something of the matter. We had been there, a lifetime ago. My boyfriend was a musician in a rock band, touring the world, gone ten months at a time, his most meaningful relationship turning into the one he had with his bunk bed.

I looked at my boyfriend. I understood the tinge of nostalgia that twinkled in his eyes.

“It’s like a drug,” said Ran.

And like any drug, it seems like enough to make life worth living. Even for me. I even got addicted, and I was just on the other side. But as we looked at Ran, fixed at this emotional crossroad, I knew that both my boyfriend and I were happy with the path we had taken.

Sure. We missed the dream. But this time, we weren’t living the dream, dreaming about life. We were living life, dreaming about where this life might take us. Maybe it was instinct that let us know which path was right for us.