I arrived at Trans-Pecos at almost exactly the same time as Holidays.
I was coming straight from another thing at Radio City that morning, rushing down the street with my camera gear when I saw Garry farther up the block. I waved. He waved back. A few minutes later we were all making our way inside together.
I had never been to Trans-Pecos before, let alone the back shed-like area where the show was happening. I don't think I had ever seen anything quite like it at a venue in New York. It was basically a tin metal box, with one wall lined by what looked like ten home AC units. Somehow, they managed to keep the room surprisingly cold. Outside of that, the place had this dingy, dark, almost basement-like feeling to it with a single fluorescent bulb lighting the room.
Gear came out of the vehicle first, followed by boxes of vinyl and merch. We carried everything into that back room and started turning the space into something recognizable. Amps. Cases. Merch spread across the table. Records stacked and waiting for people who were not there yet.
After soundcheck, with some time left before doors, Garry and I realized we were both pretty hungry and went out to get food. Dinner mostly became a conversation about music. Bands we liked. Other bands we had been listening to. The general chaos of doing what I do.
By the time Holidays were getting ready to play, the room had completely changed. I could not find a corner that did not have someone standing in it. People were pushed against the walls, pushed toward the stage, filling whatever space was still available.
I ended up hugging stage left.
At some point during the set I climbed onto the stage and tucked myself into the corner behind Simon’s monitor. It kept me mostly out of sight while still giving me enough room to photograph and film. From there, the room looked even more ridiculous. The funy thing was, from up there you could barely see the crowd because of how dark the room was. You would only catch glimmers of people when random flashes went off from cameras. That also made stage diving at the end considerably more interesting, because you could not really tell whether anyone was there to catch you or not.
Holidays have an energy when they play that is hard to explain without reducing it to the usual language people use for loud bands in small rooms. It is not just that people move. The entire room seems to move with them. There is very little separation between the band and everybody watching once the songs start.
Toward the end, I decided I was going in with the video camera. I handed my Contax T2 to a complete stranger standing next to me and basically put a little faith in the room that it would still be there when I made my way back. Video camera in hand, I moved forward and stage dove. Thankfully, when I eventually worked my way back through the crowd, he was still there holding the T2. When I was developing the film last night I saw a frame and realized he had taken a selfie with it while I was gone.
A little chaos and faith is always a fun mixture.
I came down hard enough on somebody’s head that, writing this a few days later, I am fairly certain I fractured a rib. If I bend over or go up or down stairs, I can feel it pop and shift in a way ribs probably are not supposed to.
For all the time I spend trying to preserve these nights, sometimes documenting them means ending up inside the chaos too. Keeps things interesting.
