[music]
Soul burning The science of falling in love with Bon Iver by Sarah Aswell
Bon Iver
When I read that Bon Iver was coming to Missoula, I shrieked like a girl watching the Beatles live for the first time. Then, a minute later, when I realized that I’d be across the country on the night of the show, I burst into tears. I’ve been obsessed with musical acts before: completely smitten with Led Zeppelin in middle school, followed by borderline unhealthy high school relationships with solo alternative female acts of the 90s — particularly PJ Harvey, Bjork and Tori Amos. But musical obsessions in your teens are natural, science has found. Our developing brains literally meld with the music we consume between 12 and 22, creating bonds with the artists we discover during that time like we’ll never have again: That music is with us forever. It’s the reason that your friends’ Top 10 album lists on Facebook read more like histories and journal entries than music reviews. “I know this isn’t technically one of the best albums ever,” they say apologetically, “but it’s burned into my soul.” And according to the research, they’re pretty much right. Music became less special to me, against my will, as I progressed through my 20s. As the arts editor of my college paper, and then a freelance music critic, I was inundated with new music, forced to process it and proclaim it good or bad. At the same time, unbeknownst to me, my brain (according to science) was ready to stop being influenced so deeply by music. Even when I heard something I really liked, there were no late-night listening sessions, no mad searches for rare tracks, no memorizing every word. But then, in 2008, my friend told me her cousin, Mike Noyce, was in a new band — and they’d be on David Letterman if I wanted to check it out. I tuned in to see some sort of modern woodsman playing
[18] Missoula Independent • May 24–May 31, 2018
what looked like a 100-year-old guitar (it’s 80 years old) surrounded by three guys banging on drums. He was singing in falsetto, a song with lyrics that only half made sense, called “Skinny Love.” In three minutes, I was obsessed with music again. Falling in love with a band is magic. It had been so long since I felt this way for music, and it felt so good. At the center of it all was the man behind the Bon Iver moniker, Justin Vernon. After feeling lost (and getting very sick) he abandoned his life for his father’s Wisconsin cabin, where he recorded his first album, For Emma Forever Ago, virtually by himself. Ten years and three albums later, he’s a commercial success with a loyal following, despite his increasingly experimental music and decidedly un-flashy, un-rockstar ways. What was it about Bon Iver that made me feel like a teenager for music again? I only have theories. Theory one: We love music that makes us feel our histories, and his music does just that, even though it didn’t exist back then. Theory two: He is just that good. Theory three: We are soulmates but sadly he doesn’t know it because he doesn’t know me. Theory four: Maybe people are never quite done becoming themselves, and everyone’s neurons can still explode to extraordinary sounds. What I do know is that listening to Vernon didn’t just wake me up to Bon Iver, it woke me up to all music again. And even though I’m still a little teary about missing the show, I’m glad he’ll be singing to 3,000 Montanans next week, and that the sound will pour over into the river and mountains. Get your neurons ready. I won’t be there, but I’ve already been listening. I know every word. Bon Iver plays the KettleHouse Amphitheater Thu., May 31, at 8 PM. Sold out. arts@missoulanews.com