Never go to the bathroom during a show: An evening with Dave Matthews Band

“Never go the bathroom during a show…”

“Never go the bathroom during a show.”

Wise words from my new friend Meagan at tonight’s Dave Matthews Band show in Charlotte, North Carolina, as the group launches into its imbibing-friendly tune “Jimi Thing” with Casey Driessen in the fiddle, marking the first time many of us have heard the song with its original BBQ-sauce on your t-shirt twang for the first time in nearly a decade. We’re all celebrating even though scholars maintain the meaning of the song was lost in translation a long time ago. Is it about the sweet ganja? Is it about sex? Is it about a condom? Who cares? Mr. Matthews has declared it one of the group’s hippie songs, and we all dance, well, twirl and wiggle, while group launches into a jam.

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An hour earlier, the group opens with “You Never Know,” only the 10th time it’s been played as an opener. “Don’t lose the dreams inside your head/they’ll only be there until you’re dead.” “There’s not a moment to lose in the game/Don’t let the troubles in your head/steal too much time, you’ll soon be dead/so play.” “Every day should be a good day to die.” Don’t let the world kill your spirit. Don’t waste too much time worrying, time is short. Chase your dreams, the things you want, live so you won’t have regret when it’s done. Okay, boys. I can dig that.

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Right after “Jimi Thing,” I almost fall down the hill trying to give Meagan, her neighbor Ellen, and their husbands high fives as the band launches into “Tripping Billies” with Driessen in the fold. Moments later, I’m fighting back tears as Matthews sings, “Eat, drink, and be merry/for tomorrow we die,” thinking of mom busting my chops singing, “Eat, drink, and be merry/for tomorrow we diet.” Tears continue streaming down my cheek as Driessen launches into a violin solo, giving some of us a fiddle solo on the song for the first time since our 30s — the good old days. Embracing life. Living in the present. Ignoring future worries. Dancing around like a bunch of hillbilly goats tripping on acid.

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After the song ends, I tap my guy Bakh on the shoulder. A short, broad-shouldered guy rocking “I Have the Body of a God Shirt, Unfortunately it’s Buddha t-shirt” I met before the show with his son, Ahmed who’s attending his first show. “My guy got a helluva first show, didn’t he?” I ask Bakh. “Yup,” he replies. “Did you like it my man?” I ask Ahmed. “Yes sir,” he replies. “Welcome to the tribe, my guy, welcome to the tribe,” I tell him. All three of us laugh.

“Hani, Hani, come and dance with me”

“Pick me up love, every day.”

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So goes the interchanging sing-song between the band and crowd. Awesome to hear 20,000-plus people singing, “pick me up love, every day” and “all you need is love” in unison, in today’s time. “Welcome to the crew,” I say moments later to Ellen and her husband after finding out its their first show as well. Well, now that I think about it, that’s about it. “All you need is love.” Once again, nice to hear 20,000-plus sing the refrains in unison. Reached down and touched a brother’s heart.

Megan tells me her mom died last week and this is her first show without her. We talk about that, and my first show without my mom, Virginia Beach 2024. A show that brought “So Damn Lucky,” and the refrain of “round, round, round,” repeated to the brink of insanity that we used to tease mom with. She later hugs Ellen and the husbands. A group hug. One of family, comfort, and remembrance of one’s lost.”

A large group of people light the way for a middle-aged lady having a bit of trouble navigating the lawn, lawn chairs, and thousands of people at one time. Makes me think of the people who helped get my parents off the lawn and under the shelter after an impromptu rainstorm moved in over the venue in Northern Virginia.

Dave talks about the little things that connect us before launching into a new song called “Papertown.” “I won’t forget all of you right now,” he Matthews sings during the closer of “So Right.”

Dancing. Wiggling. Imbibing. Navigating steep lawns while doing all three at the same time. Community. Togetherness. Camaraderie. Everybody from the grizzled 50-plus show veterans, mid-level ones (20-plus, my level), first timers, dirty hippies, preppy prepsters, mid-2000s nostalgists, “Everyday” mainstream fans or tailgate aficionados. Republicans. Democrats. Alien conspiracy theorists. Fans of the designated hitter rule. Fans of Astroturf. Those who think there should be a constitutional amendment banning the designated hitter rule and Astroturf. Those believe in opening presents on Christmas Eve. Those who believe in waiting until Christmas morning to open presents. Those that love “A Christmas Story.” Those that hate it.

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“You Never Know.” “Grey Street.” “Stay (Wasting Time).” “Everyday.” “Jimi Thing.” “Tripping Billies.” “Warehouse.” “Bartender.” So Right.” A 90s-mid-2000s nostalgists dream. All of us 40-somethings swept back to the times we could knock back five or six beers, a few bowl packs, a couple of caps and stems at the show, wrestle an alligator, go to Waffle House at 2 a.m. and slam back a Patty Melt and loaded hashbrowns and sleep like a baby. The main stream fans get “The Space Between” and “You and Me.” “I Did It” and “Sledgehammer” for the tailgate bumpahs. All of us enjoying the tunes no matter which group of fandom we fall into and in the spirit of love and togetherness.

“Eighteen shows. You’ve been to 18 shows? What’s the juice? What’s the squeeze, Davin?” you’re probably asking yourself. Well buddy, it’s that community, togetherness, camaraderie that brings me back. People nearly falling down the hill trying to high five each other after hearing the opening notes of their favorite songs. People shouting “woo!” during a break in a wicked guitar riff. People celebrating together. Crying together. Grieving together. Healing together.

Meanwhile, nearly 400 miles north in Washington, D.C., a bunch of boners in suits and pant suits, sponsored by more corporations than ballparks and NASCAR drivers, and talking heads on the TV tell us we’re enemies because we don’t vote the same way or believe the same things. At this moment, though, we are helping people fold up their blankets, find their way back to their seats, giving people blankets or coats if their cold, socks if their sockless and if we’re holding, we’re not holding out. What a way to say, “fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me,” to those people trying to divide us.

That’s pretty punk rock if you ask me.

While listening to the crowd shouting “woo” at the end of each 16th-note pattern in the opening riff of “Warehouse,” and talking to Bakh and Ahmed tonight, I realized something: I’m surrounded by tradition. People who make summer Amphitheatre runs across the country to see the band. People who start every show with a pregame routine of drinking, smoking, and a little bit of ladder ball or cornhole in the parking lot. People who brave the tent-toppling winds of the Gorge Amphitheatre for the three-day residency. Folks who eat, drink, and be merry — not to mention smoke and dance and wiggle — out in the heat every summer. People who get together before every show and make guessing games of which songs will pop up on the setlist.

It’s the same tradition that leads dads to take their kids to family cabins in the woods and camping trips. That leads them to packing everybody in the family station wagon and driving thousands of miles to Wally World. To traveling across the country to visit as many minor-league baseball stadiums as they can fit in during the summer. The passing down of family rings. Opportunities to form and enforce bonds, make memories.

At 43 years old, I’m probably too old to have kids. And even if I was younger, I would have an even harder time finding a woman crazy enough to not only have a baby with me, but settle down with me, thanks to my eccentricities and crazy schedule. Talking with my dad in his room after the show, I told him I wanted to pass the Dave Matthews Band tradition down to my niece and nephew. To keep the family love for the band going past my death and my brother’s. To help them learn the importance of loving something and loving it unconditionally. The importance of being a part of something bigger than themselves.

Be kind to people. Always dance and wiggle and twirl. Eat, drink, and be merry. Always go to a Sunday show. Never go to the bathroom during a show.

Amen, Megan. Amen.