Part 1: Oh simple thing, where have you gone? / I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
With the start of a new school year, it's been in the back of my mind, but not a top priority, to commemorate the fact that it's now officially twenty years since the life event that had me starting this blog happened. I refer, of course, to my moving to England to teach music, the Wild and Absolutely True Adventure that would be...well, everything it was. An adventure, with all of the ups and downs that adventures bring. Adventures logged in blog posts by a very young teacher, still figuring out where she was in the world. Metaphorically. Physically, she was in Burnham-on-Crouch, Essex, a tiny hamlet just a mile or so in from the North Sea.
Then, this past week, I attended two Keane gigs, to celebrate the twentieth anniversary of their first major album, Hopes and Fears. Sitting in the audience at Berkeley on Wednesday evening, it occurred to me that for the guys on stage, as well as for me, the last twenty years have seen us all go through so many career and life trajectories--taking a sometimes parallel route of successes and failures before finally reaching the point we are all at now. The guys of Keane, successful career musicians, loving what they've built and enjoying their families and personal communities that they have built. And me, successful music teacher, loving what I have built and enjoying my family and community here. I even have a mortgage.
God help us, we're adulting.
The members of Keane--Tim, Richard, Tom, and Jesse--are all in their 40s, and I am right smack in the middle of them, freshly-turned 46 and nursing a middle-aged knee strain that is (pardon me for this), really fucking annoying. I'm too young for joint pain, and yet...I'm not.
Twenty years ago, three twenty-something English guys (Jesse would join a few years later) were living the will-we-or-won't-we life of the young rock band, doing everything they could to get their music out there, to build a following. And twenty-six-year-old Meg was getting a job offer from a faraway school (via an agency) and excitedly setting off into the unknown.
Part 2: If only I don't bend and break
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| 1999 at Loch Ness |
But before I could pack my bags and jet off to be a teacher in some place called Essex, an album had been released, and that album had a single that was getting rather a lot of air play on my local radio station. The song was called "Somewhere Only We Know," and the album, Hopes and Fears, was a debut by a band called Keane. This was before streaming was a thing, so I bought the CD and listened to this awesome song many times because I really, really liked it.
One thing you have to know about me is that back in those days, when I owned a shit-ton of CDs, I often made the colossal mistake of only listening to the one or two songs I knew on an album, and ignoring the rest. It's a terrible habit, especially for someone who loves music enough to have sweated her way to a degree in it, but there you have it. My dirty little secret.
Such it was with Hopes and Fears. I listened to SOWK, but never the rest of the album. The CD even went with me when I moved to England.
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| 2004 in London |
Ahh, youth.
Roll on 2005 and Keane was making their second album, while I was returning to the States to figure out my next move (that would be a year living in Washington state with my parents before we all returned home to California to stay). I still had my trusty Hopes and Fears CD.
Part 3: Nothing is given, except the ties that hold us together
In Spring 2006, just before we all up and returned to the Golden State, I discovered this marvelous new thing called an iPod. A fellow music teacher at my tiny school had one and I marveled at it. "You can put all your songs on this? And play them whenever you want? This is MAGIC!" I bought myself a Nano, and set up shop at my parents' computer, taking songs from some of my hundreds of CDs and putting them in an iTunes library. This would allow me to take my favorite music everywhere I wanted to go, and also allow me to sell all those CDs and not have to pack them in boxes for the move. Brilliant.
Of course, that amazing song, "Somewhere Only We Know," was one song transferred to my new iTunes library. The rest of the album was again ignored. I sold the CD, moved back to California, and spent two tumultuous years teaching choir at a high school in the East Bay area.
That job was probably even more stressful than the English school; I took over for a much-loved choir teacher, and I was only ten years older than my oldest students. They took my inexperience as a direct insult, and I took their insulted feelings as a direct insult to me. It wasn't pretty.
Keane was having to make their own adjustments--Tom had widely-publicized problems that he has alluded to in these most recent concerts, leading him to time in rehab, some cancelled concerts, and a lot of questions about the future of Keane for Tim and Richard. I cannot begin to imagine the stress of becoming well-known, and the pressure that is then placed on you to do more, be more, give more. By 2006 they had a second album, Under the Iron Sea, a lot of touring and publicity, and a lot of traveling. Tom returned, and they kept plugging along towards album number three.
I found myself taking a job in Stockton, just south of Sacramento, where I was far less stressed at work, until I got laid off in 2010. It was while I was in Stockton that my own path started to merge more with Keane's.
By this point, "Somewhere Only We Know" was my most-played song in my iTunes library. For some reason, that song just resonated with me. Maybe all my history of being a pianist, maybe the lyrics. A combination? I don't know, I just loved this song. I knew next to nothing about the band that gave it to me.
Facebook had become a thing, and I loved me some Facebook. Through that, I learned that this band, Keane, was coming to Oakland in May 2009. Talking to my fellow music nerd friend Summer, I asked, "Would you be interested in going?"
"Yeah!" She replied. "You probably know a ton of their songs, not just 'Somewhere Only We Know.' They're really good."
"Are they American?" (Oh, Meg.)
"I think they're English."
"Cool."
A plan was made. We got tickets and on a Friday afternoon, I drove to Oakland, met Summer (she lived there at the time) and we went to the Fox Theater to see some maybe-English? band called Keane. They were touring their third album, Perfect Symmetry.
When the show started, I was really digging the music, and how accomplished the guys on stage were (by now, Jesse was a regular touring member of the group). Summer and I both looked at each other at one point and one of us said of Tom, "He can sing." The other responded, "He really can."
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| Summer and I at the 2009 show |
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| My first Keane show |
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| Richard on drums |
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| Tim on keyboards |
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| Front man Tom |
Turns out, I loved every song, every moment of that show. They just had something really great, something that hooked me and didn't let go. I returned home the next day and started buying up Keane songs on iTunes. I looked up interviews in print and on YouTube. I went to their official web site and joined the fan forum. I wanted to learn everything I could.
Those were the golden days of fan forums, before social media really got toxic, before Reddit. I befriended like-minded fans in the Keane forum, namely four ladies who would become Duck Ladies with me, leading to almost 15 years of ongoing friendship. (This becomes relevant later on in this post.)
Keane not only gave me really great music, they brought new friends from around the world. These friends introduced me to other great bands, to places I didn't even know about. We would excitedly share our concert pictures with each other and squee together over every new interview.
I've been a musician since my first piano lesson at age seven; but I never had anything like what I found being part of the Keane fandom.
Part 4: Trying to make a move just to stay in the game
A year later, in 2010, I would find myself newly-unemployed after being let go from my job in Stockton, during one of the worst economic downturns in my lifetime. I interviewed for job after job, with no results. There were too many unemployed music teachers to compete with. But Keane had an experimental EP coming out called Night Train, and they decided to tour it. They would return to Oakland in July, and Summer and I were all in. This time, however, I was determined to meet whichever guys came out after to see fans. By now I knew we could count on Richard to almost always be out--the band's drummer, he's the most eager to chat with fans and learn about their places in the world.
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| Summer is always happy to see Keane with me. |
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| Richard didn't let me down. He came out after, and I got to chat with him and get a picture. |
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| All I could think to say to Tim was, "Oh my God, you're so tall!" He was very nice about it. |
A week or so after that concert, a lady I had befriended via the fan forum on Keane's web site would message me, asking if she could call me. "I don't want you to think I'm a weird stalker!!" I really loved interacting with this gal, a New Yorker, Israeli-American named Maayan, so I thought, "Why not," and gave her my phone number.
Our first phone conversation was not at all awkward, just two women who both loved this band, talking about our respective gigs--she had seen Keane the night before in NYC.
She got a bee in her bonnet after that gig to ask Richard to sign a program for me, and she needed my address so she could mail it.
A friendship was born, as well as the Wall of Sound--two loud women, on either side of the continental United States. We figured our voices met somewhere over Nebraska.
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I was unemployed, and a year later I would tuck my tail between my legs and take my parents' offer to move back home to save money while I looked for work. Keane were riding the waves of their success, working on ideas for their next album, officially making Jesse part of the band so he could also be in on the royalties, and more. Tim and Jesse had a side project called Mt. Desolation, and all of us Keane fans flocked to see them perform when they toured opening for Mumford and Sons, who also came to love.
My fellow Wall of Sound friend Maayan would travel to California in 2011 to see Mumford and Sons with me, as a matter of fact.
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| Jesse with Mt. Desolation |
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| Tim |
Part 5: And they say that you should move on, but you can't even get your shoes on
As it does, life marches forward. Keane would release Strangeland in 2012, I would find a very part-time job teaching music at a tiny private school. I went back to doing private piano lessons, as well. The Strangeland tour in 2012 was more stressful for them--on the surface, we fans only knew of the death of a dear friend of theirs, drum technician Scott Johnson, who was killed in a stage collapse ahead of a Radiohead concert. Under the surface, it would later come out, there was some strife among the band.
By November 2013, I was officially off unemployment, teaching high school choir part-time at what I called here in the blog The Large Suburban High School. It was the opposite of my time in the East Bay. I was now a confident 35-year-old, and I loved my students and our rehearsals. Keane, meanwhile, released their Greatest Hits album, with three new-to-fans tracks, and the announcement that they were taking a break.
For how long?
Hard to say.
They toured the Greatest Hits album; I saw them in January 2014, and then...they went silent for a while.
In those few years they weren't active, there was always fan speculation. Will they come back together? I think most of us were optimistic. "They never said they were breaking up, only that they were taking time off." Others, not so much. "It's been two/three/four years, they're done."
I'm an optimist. Plus, they put out a single song called "Tear Up This Town" for the movie soundtrack of the movie A Monster Calls. That was hopeful, right? (I would learn, years later, in a Twitter response from Jesse, that the time spent recording that song actually held some really sad memories for all of them.)
Mt. Desolation put out a second album. Tom created a solo album. All of them settled with their wives and a few more kids were born. Richard stayed active on Twitter, to the delight of fans. I got to see Tom perform his album in San Francisco in 2017, which was great. He played "Somewhere Only We Know," that brilliant song that first brought me to Keane...but it wasn't the same for me without Richard, Tim, and Jesse.
In this album and the publicity surrounding it, Tom opened up to all of us that he had been struggling again with addiction and other demons. After rehab and a lot of time healing, he was feeling good again, he was able to be present with his family, and he was enjoying touring. What this meant for Keane was anyone's guess.
Then, some signs of hope. In 2018, they returned to their hometown, Battle, to play a festival there. And then, an Instagram post on November 7th of the four guys of Keane sitting on a couch, in what appeared to be a recording studio. The only caption, a cheeky hand-wave emoji. Were they back?!
But let me back up.
By 2018, I'd had some of my own changes. I left the Large Suburban High School in 2015 and obtained full-time employment teaching music at a TK-8 school in Sacramento. I lived with Mom and Dad for one more year, to save up for the down payment on my own home. I bought a new car. I returned to London for the first time in eleven years, a trip filled with overwhelming emotions and a trip to see Keane's hometown in Sussex. In 2016 I moved in to my little condo, and set up my very own home as an owner.
Then Mom got sick in 2017.
In June 2018, she was gone.
Losing Mom, of course, had a huge impact on my life, one that still resonates. I was absolutely changed by losing her, in ways that I feel every day but can't quite explain. When Keane posted that cheeky hand-wave under a picture of the four of them together a few months later, I found something to grab onto while riding the massive waves of my grief. Something to find joy in.
Just typing the above sent me out of the room to grab a handful of tissue.
Cause and Effect came out in 2019. Keane was officially back together, and cautiously optimistic about their future, with a "one never knows" sort of attitude to what may come. But for now, they had an album to share, tours announced, and life was good.
The US tour started in March 2020...and we all know what else started in March 2020. Six days after I saw them in Seattle, my school shut down "for three weeks" and stayed shut 'til the end of the school year. COVID would cut the US tour short, and I'm lucky I got to see them. Richard gifted me a signed bass drum head, which is to this day one of my most prized possessions, up there with Mom's rings and my oldest Snoopy doll.
The title to this section, by the way, from the Cause and Effect album, still resonates, and this past week, hearing "The Way I Feel" live, I have sung those particular words with a certain emphasis. What was a gut-punch in 2019 is now a victory call, as I celebrate how proud my mom would be of me living my life as I am.
Part 6: Fearful child, have faith in brighter days
We roll on to 2023, when Keane announced that to celebrate the twentieth birthday of Hopes and Fears in 2024, they would tour the world. Dates were announced, and tickets went on sale. In September, I would buy tickets nearly a year in advance for two shows--my "home" show this time would be in Berkeley. In the years since the 2014 gig, which Summer went to with me, she moved to Phoenix, so this gig would be just me. But we bought two tickets for the San Diego show, and I arranged to fly down for that on a Friday.
My Wall of Sound friend, Maayan, meanwhile, had left New York for Atlanta, Georgia, and when tickets for that gig went on sale, she mused on Facebook, "Well, I'll buy two tickets, and I have a year to find someone to go with me..." I promptly responded: "Me. I will go with you." A lot of internet shrieking, and then phone shrieking, ensued. Tickets were purchased, I sent her a Venmo payment, and there you have it. After fifteen years, we will finally actually see Keane together.
Brace yourselves.
This year has been busy. My teaching keeps me hustling every day, and I've had two marvelous trips this year--Prague in February and Sydney in June. After Sydney, my July flew by and a new school year was starting. A couple weeks ago, I found myself thinking, "Oh, I have Keane in a few weeks." Then I turned a page in my planner and almost yelped out loud. "Oh, I have Keane next week."
I hemmed and hawed about my Berkeley ticket. This is the first time in 15 years of fandom that I am in a position where I can afford to go to more than one show. But Berkeley is about a 90-minute drive, and this show was on a Wednesday--a school night. I thought about selling my ticket, until I remembered I had purchased a VIP ticket for this one gig, and regular tickets for the rest. I made a compromise: I would go, but give myself a curfew. I needed to leave no later than 10:00 to be home before midnight and get enough sleep to survive the next day. I'm teaching 5-10-year-olds this year, I need my sleep.
Fortunately, due to noise ordinances, the show had to end by 10:00, so I stayed for the whole main set, and snuck out during the encore, which I could hear all the way to my car anyway, as I limped my way back. Damned knee.
As it turns out, I had not one regret about spending a school night driving to Berkeley and back. The show--the first on the US tour--was incredible. I could see all of them, at various points, laughing on stage, but that laughter that happens when you're just happy to be somewhere. It was glorious to watch. And I was laughing right along with them, bouncing up and down (hence the limping back to my car later), and singing every single word.
Every time I've seen Keane live, my favorite moment is always "Somewhere Only We Know." Over the years, I've marveled, and, not gonna lie, judged, a lot of fans who are "tired" of hearing this song live. They want the more obscure songs that we fans all love, that surface fans might not be aware of. They understand why Keane always performs SOWK, they just don't enjoy it anymore.
If I ever get sick of this song live, you might as well put me out to pasture.
By the time the guys ended their main set with it on Wednesday, I was bursting with joy. From the clicks of Richard's drum sticks (I know that tempo) to the first few familiar chords on Tim's keyboard, I was whooping with happiness.
After all, it's the song that brought me to Keane in the first place. And with them, friendships, live music, and so much good just when I've needed it.
In the few days since that show, and while enjoying Friday's show in San Diego, I started having thoughts about the blog post I had intended to write about how twenty years ago, I got on a London-bound 747 and began the biggest risky adventure of my lifetime, before the start of a new school year had me so busy that I just forgot to write it. Listening to the guys, and hearing Tom talk about how the last twenty years changed their lives and brought them so much good, even with all of the struggles, made me think of the parallels between their lives and my own. How these four middle-aged guys and middle-aged me are sitting in a comfortable stage of our lives with our homes, families, friends, and careers, and how all of us had our ups and downs getting here.
I had the pleasure of running into Richard and Jesse before the show in San Diego. I have a long-running "Twitter friendship" with Richard now, based on cats and shared love of music and social justice, and when he spotted me, he recognized me. So I got to chat with them for a few minutes. When Richard asked, "So, how's your life been?" I realized in a split second that I could hold him captive there for an hour blabbering on, or I could be cool and let these guys go sit down on their air-conditioned bus for a bit on a humid afternoon, so I kept it to a simple, "Oh, you know, things are good!" But I was able to tell them how happy they looked on stage in Berkeley, and how great it is to see them enjoying the process. As a musician, I know there are times we just dial it in. And I now the simple high that I get when I'm 100% tuned into a performance and how euphoric it feels.
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| Richard and I, 14 years older, maybe one year wiser, and red-faced because even nearing midnight, the humidity was intense. |
Anyway, a blog post was born. I got home last night and collapsed into bed, so here I am on Sunday, looking back at two amazing concerts, and forward to one more this coming weekend--one where I get to stand next to Maayan, where there will be a lot of happy tears, loud singing along, and more incredible memories made...all because twenty years ago I heard a song on the radio and liked it.
The power of music, ya know?
