How to Find Your Personal Babylon (the good kind) at MGM Music Hall at Fenway with David Gray.
Friday night, I’m going nowhere, all the lights turn green and red ….. “
The opening lyrics to David Gray’s hit “Babylon” could refer to stoplights and driving, but they work perfectly with walking, too. Even in the frigid Boston air, passing under the banners of Fenway with the smoke of a nearby sausage cart mixing with the vapors of your breath, David Gray’s notes and lyrics feel the same to me as in 1999. The lyrics are more intimate through your AirPods, though than the speakers of a 1992 Ford Explorer.
“Babylon” has a reported resurgence on TikTok, the stronghold entertainment app for the younger generations. But at MGM Music Hall at Fenway, those millennials were nowhere to be found. David Gray appeared to be entertaining his greatest fan base one that is particularly evident in the Northeast: a middle-aged crowd where the median age was certainly over the age of 20.
In the front row, an ardent danced for every song, rebelling against the chairs that were confusingly and confoundingly placed on the first floor of the venue. But even if your response wasn’t standing and dancing, every single person moved. They bopped. They nodded. They grooved in place. They nudged their neighbors. These little movements center us. And while with each one, it may seem like we’re going nowhere, we are actually finding our own Babylon…but in a good way.
Traditionally, Babylon signifies the downfall of society based on greed. It is a symbol an idol and an example that falls apart. But David Gray’s song is so beautiful, and the experience of being within it is so grand and primarily positive, that I think the tune presents something different: a warning. It presents a choice to hover in its beauty while carrying the lessons of Babylon; we are not swayed by opulence and greed, but rather, the song reminds us to lift each other up instead. People have replaced our Babylons, and they are not in danger of falling.
The fans in this version of Babylon are a unique troop. They are the kind that would support David Gray through a mistake in his lyrics just to remind him of the correct ones and applaud him all the way through it. They are the kind that embraced the opener, Sierra Spirit, an Indigenous artist from Oklahoma who partly rose to fame from a Radiohead cover. The fandom celebrated her “beautiful voice.”
For someone with such a longing for their voice and an impressive repertoire of songs about loneliness and love, David Gray’s music actually seems to bring people together and not apart. They embraced each other, arms drawing each other in a little bit closer during “Please Forgive Me.” They took selfies. His voice is beautiful but not without a touch of edge and roughness, an apt description too of Boston. His music echoed crisply and impressively through the sold-out venue, a three-level feat, with folks holding glow sticks in the top row. The MGM Music Hall at Fenway makes a statement; gone are the dark and dingy clubs of yore; the elder clubs that may have been popular around the time “Babylon” was released. The pristine ones with pristine sound are here to stay. Thank goodness, for these are my sanctuaries.
And suddenly, it hits, the song before the encore: “Babylon.” I join the cellphone brigade, attempting like everyone else to re-capture my prior years via iPhone video, zooming in through the standing crowd, avoiding errant shoulders. It carried the same beauty and gravitas as it did years ago.
By the end, patrons who had gathered their winter coats in an attempt to avoid the crowd simply came back in with their layers, warmed up already by the music and secondly by their winter coats; newfound layers. They didn’t leave. Because once you find your own personal version of Babylon, it might take a while to budge. Moving on from going “nowhere.” Especially on a Friday night.
Let go your heart, let go your head. And feel it now.”
