If there’s one thing that you can’t tell just by staring at me, it’s the undying love I have for Kelly Clarkson. I love her, her music, her voice, her personality, her talents, her concerts, everything. I don’t know when it started, however, it had to have been around the time she won Idol. It’s a musical interest that has made a lot of people laugh, for obvious reasons, but I love her nonetheless. Always have, always will. Idol days to dyin’ days.

But for all of my love for Kelly Clarkson, there is one thing I can’t say I’ll ever have the chance to witness: an intimate concert.

That sounds weird.

A private concert?

Nope. Even weirder.

Ugh. Let me explain further. Maybe I have a point here.

With my wide range of musical tastes, many artists of which appear in my lists at the end of each post, a lot are outside the mainstream (in typical hipster fashion). These artists range from Jon Bryant to Ziggy Alberts to Brolly to Field Division and normally, when an actual miracle happens and these artists make the off the wall decision to play for fans in the Southeast United States, their concerts comprise of maybe a hundred or so people. This isn’t to say that they’re bad artists, in fact, quite the contrary. They’re just outside the mainstream.

And I dig it so much. Those concerts are wonderful little slices of intimate reality.

Kelly Clarkson, in all her glory and awesomeness and loveliness, has the ability to sell out major, major venues to thousands if not millions of people.

Or take Taylor Swift, an even grander example of this idea (I can’t say I love Taylor half as much I do Kelly though, just for clarification). Or Adele. Or Drake. Or, to the detriment of my soul, twenty one pilots. These artists SELL. OUT.

And it just isn’t the same. Yes, there is some magical transaction that takes place (I can say for certain that this is true since I’ve seen Kelly Clarkson live) but it can’t match an intimate concert. This is simply because it’s impossible to do that with thousands of audience members, of course.

I promise this isn’t just about concerts. It’s about any intimate space.

There’s a beauty in a close quarters encounter that contains the power to bring joy or even a life change. People go to live in a different country for a while and that’s a powerful, intimate encounter. That’s life-changing. People crawl across the country penniless (Mike McIntyre did such a thing) and that’s an extremely intimate experience with differences and hardships. But there’s something there, right?

It may just be my introvert talking.

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I’ve spent a few (just a few) words discussing my love of going out to the mountains by myself, with nothing besides me, camera, and book. Sometimes I meet people, but most times I don’t and I hike on in solitude (which I’m obviously okay with). I normally figure something out about myself that I didn’t know before. I have close experiences with nature.

Fort Mountain is a place here in Georgia that offers great biking trails and, also, a great backcountry trail called Gahuti. It’s an eight-mile journey that takes you through pretty diverse terrains and elevations. And oh my goodness, the bears:

Black bears literally everywhere. I’ve never seen so many bears in my life.

Don’t get me wrong. I love hiking. I love being alone. But I’m terrified of certain things about outdoor environments. Ticks giving me an incurable disease. Flesh-eating bacteria. SPIDERS. Serial killers out on the trails, also alone. SPIDERS. Exhaustion and/or heat stroke. Running out of water…SPIDERS.

And also getting confronted by a bear. That is very high on the list. But I still do it. And I wish I could tell you why but I don’t even have a great answer other than the beauty of the environment I’m in. Mountains, trees, wilderness, quiet, it’s all there. And it’s worth it. And to date, I’ve never had an unfortunate run-in with a bear.

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Earlier last year, there was a talk given by a few economists at my school. To literally anyone else, it seemed like an event that would go overlooked by most students who weren’t already majoring in economics or business, but there I was, with my English major hair tied back in a wet ponytail. And it was a great few hours of talk discussing some relevant issues and educational moments.

I also believe that had the talks been given in one of the bigger lecture halls on campus instead of the few classrooms they had been located in, something might’ve been lost. Something might not have clicked as evenly. Something might’ve just not occurred as precisely as it did.

I felt a greater connection to the speakers (sitting on desks, by the way) surrounded by other people who were not in my field of study than I would have if a wooden stage step separated me from those speakers. And consequently, from everyone else around me.

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The modern coffee shop and tea bar are intimate spaces these days too. In keeping with my hipster persona that I’ve involuntarily painted for myself here, the coffee shop provides me with weekly, sometimes daily, diving into my work or into conversations with others around me. It’s built for that (thanks Starbucks), it’s encouraged, and it’s definitely cozy. A space for deep concentration and thought or even just for staring blankly out the window at a grey sky and rainy sidewalk. I feel a greater connection to my work and my coffee or to the company I’m surrounded by (thanks Land of a Thousand Hills).

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And now, back to concerts.

Strangely, I began to think hard about the topic of intimate spaces right in the midst of an Oh Hellos concert. I love The Oh Hellos, and that’s very evident when I see them live. They talk with you and they have fun and they aren’t afraid to be wacky and goofy on stage, especially if something doesn’t go to plan.

I stand there in the audience with myself or a few friends soaking in the atmosphere of crazy humans dancing to folk music, feeling as though I’m part of the space and the event that’s happening. I feel ensconced in the nature of the environment, in the sensory details of the present, experiencing things as fully as possible. Time flies.

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And I think that’s a vital part of what makes a space intimate no matter the size of the actual area: the ability to feel things fully only comes with a bit of vulnerability. There’s a little bit of fright, a little bit of hesitation. And it’s normal.

There’s that little bit of fright I have of bears, I keep going because the draw of the outdoors is greater than that. There’s a little bit of fear of close-quartered concert venues, I still attend because the joyous sounds of the band are bigger than that. There’s even the slightest bit of pull to stay home from running to the coffeehouse, for whatever reason, but I still go because I know full well I’ll get way more work done there than I could semi-distracted elsewhere.

The middle part of the Venn-diagram is where the magic occurs and it’s a land of joy and richness and connection. The capability to be vulnerable and open is often hushed in crowds and hordes of people screaming at Ed Sheeran concerts, lost in the monotony of building and bustling cityscapes, and somewhat muddled at long Starbucks lines. At least for me.

I love Kelly Clarkson and her music. I’m going to keep on loving her and her music. But I also relinquish the feeling of vulnerability when I attend a concert like that. A sacrificial submission to knowing that something will be drowned out. Something surreal will be missing. It won’t be intimate.

Yet, sometimes that’s okay.

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A few clarifying thoughts on this post:

• I am definitely not saying that people who enjoy the alternative to what I enjoy in a concert or elsewhere are shallow and don’t live life to the fullest. Personality traits differ and I completely understand that.
• When I decide to purchase coffee, I normally go to Starbucks because Starbucks is convenient (just black dark roasts because…cheap). But make no mistake, I’d rather be at Land of a Thousand Hills, or Jumping Goat, or PennyCup, or Velo, or Black Tiger, or… I could list a few others. The problem where I live is that I have to drive a minimum of thirty minutes to get to any of those places (four or five days for Black Tiger as it’s located in Langley, B.C.) whereas I could walk to my local Starbucks.

• Definitely check out The Oh Hellos if you’ve never heard the wonder that is their music. I really did think about these things at their recent stop in East Georgia.
• Again to reiterate, I’m not speculating on wholesomeness. This is what I experience and I feel that people should certainly try being in solitude at least once as it is proven to be beneficial in most cases.

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Dustin Tebbutt—Chasing Gold

The Oh Hellos—Where Is Your Rider

Wake Owl—Gold

Gregory Alan Isakov—Salt & the Sea

Jack Savoretti—Sleep No More

Kelly Clarkson—Don’t Rush

Joseph—White Flag

Benjamin Del Shreve—Lovin’ Lovin Ya

Josh Garrels—Creation Song