Glowing & grateful
A Field of Vision story
“You’re glowing,” Andie says to me before the show.
I brush it off in the moment. Oh, it’s probably just the beer! Haha! Because there’s no way I can look “glowing” in my silly hat over limp, unwashed hair and my dirty King Gizz dress I’ve already worn all day and to last night’s show and had liquids spilled upon, with my crinkly-eyed goofy smile and dirty hiking shoes.
But it’s true, if I’m being honest. I really am glowing, and this becomes apparent to me when I see photos from that night afterwards—night three of three at King Gizzard’s Field of Vision music festival in Buena Vista, Colorado.
It was my eleventh King Gizz concert, and my sixth of the year. The previous two nights of the festival were transcendent; Gizz concerts always are. Night one delivered with a rocking “Kepler-22b” on the synth table (aka Nathan) and the Mind Fuzz suite, which I’d been waiting for, and night two brought me my first live “Magenta Mountain,” my favorite song—among many other highlights: lots of flute from Stu (and Joey?? Okay!); “Hot Wax” and “Hot Water”; “Superbug” with a 14-year-old audience member on Stu’s guitar; “Empty” for the first time since 2014… should I go on? The range, skill, and energy of this band has me breathless, always wondering what they’re going to show up with next. That’s where I was at on night three: not necessarily expecting or hoping for anything specific, but knowing that it was going to be an amazing time. And knowing that I had to leave it all out there, as it were, and enjoy this final moment with my new friends and our favorite band in the mountains of Colorado.
Reader, night three delivered.
Picture this: Six thirty-something Australian rockers walked out on stage in drag. (It was Drag Night.) Stu with his neon pink wig and long dress. He grabbed the mic and said to the crowd, simply, “We love you so much.” Joey in a cutoff shirt and short shorts with fishnet tights. “What up, queens?” he asked. Cavs with his hair in three ponytails á la Cynthia from Rugrats. Cookie in a flowy little floral number, Lucas in a cutoff “But Daddy I Love Him” shirt over a long black skirt, Amby in a dark blue flapper-style dress. All of them with glittery makeup on and lowkey eating. Acoustic guitars came out. The last bit of the warm Colorado daylight began to dim. They launched into a quiet, beautiful version of “Theia” that called to mind trees and running creeks, tents in the dusty distance, music rolling over mountain peaks.
And then picture me mid-crowd, beaming, as the circle pit opened up for the metal section of the show:“Supercell,” followed by “Perihelion” and “Venusian 1,” then, later, “Motor Spirit.” I don’t mosh as a general rule because I don’t want to be crushed to death. But my friend Brittney was keen, so I followed her in. I expected it to be terrifying. It was not. It was merely sweaty and joyous and silly. Bouncing around like a kid, spinning gaily in the tempest. I got a little turned around on my way out, but a guy with a giant light-up Lord of the Rings style staff pulled me over. “You okay?” he asked, grinning. “We’ll look out for you in here!”
And that’s really how it was. You’d think a crowd would be a stressful place for an introvert like me, but this was a very high quality crowd. Good vibes. Positive energy and all that. Everyone happy to be there. Every once in a while I’d look around and make eye contact with someone near me and just smile, sing together for a while, maybe dance. We ran into several people we’d met either at the festival or at previous shows and greeted them as though they were long-lost friends.
I’d told people on the first night that I wanted to crowd surf—which I’d never done before—but I kept chickening out. By the time I was properly comfortable, eleven songs in and during “Billabong Valley,” I felt enthusiastic about it again and wanted to give it a go. I told Brittney, who told our friend Grace, whose eyes immediately widened. “Hell yeah! Let me go get some friends to get you up!” Said friends came running within seconds and before I knew it I was airborne and floating above the crowd on strangers’ hands.
There wasn’t a lot of time to process it. One minute I was on the ground and the next I was being passed along towards the stage. The music sounded great from up there. The cool air was a pleasant relief from the sweaty pit. I laughed. I sang. I whooped and hollered and yelled “First crowd surf, WOOO!” If there’s any crowd I’d trust not to drop me, it’s the Weirdo Swarm. Perpetually joyous, eternally good, unendingly concerned with the wellbeing of the entire community. I was a tiny ship sailing over a giant sea of love. I knew I was going to be taken care of.
The crowd led me to the security guard behind the rail who cradled me like a baby and set me down on the ground. I didn’t register how close I was to the stage or even get a peek of the band—I was too full of warm pride in myself for having just done something that scared me. I ran around the side and threaded back through until I found Brittney again. By then the band was playing the “K.G.L.W.” outro from the microtonal album L.W., which goes SO hard, and which had been high on my want-to-see list since I watched the live version at Red Rocks from last year.
As the show went on, we moshed our way closer to the stage until we were on the left side near the rail, in front of Flapper Girl Amby for the last few songs of the night. “The Garden Goblin,” also a longtime wishlist track, was so much fun, as was “Daily Blues.” We could all tell they were coming to the end of the set. The three hours were almost up. But I tried to drink it all in, and be really present. Look around, feel the air, see the lights. Be.
The boys got quiet for a second as Stu made an announcement about Matt Gawiak, the Gizz fan who went down during Friday’s show. They’d had to stop in the middle of a song and part the crowd as the medical team rushed Matt out for treatment. It was announced the following day that Matt had tragically died from a previously unknown health condition. “We are deeply saddened,” Stu said, which echoed the feelings of shock that had run through the swarm when we’d found out.
“Matt was a huge Gizz fan,” Joey added. “So let’s dedicate this next song to him.” Everyone started cheering and chants of “Matt! Matt! Matt!” broke out. I didn’t know Matt, but I felt chills run down my spine just from that show of support.
They began slowly, not committing to a particular melody, trying to keep us guessing, until the beautiful floating opening riff of “Float Along - Fill Your Lungs” came loose, and so did something within me. It’s one of my favorite Gizz songs. It has brought me so much comfort and reassurance. When I was training for my first marathon in 2023 I listened to it on repeat on my long runs, reminding myself to just take a deep breath and keep going. And now it was also dedicated to Matt—who few of us knew, but now all of us love.
I could tell they were putting everything they had into this one. Every note felt so slow and intentional; it was obvious they were reflecting and thinking of Matt and his family. They might never have known him, but their love and care came out through the music. Less than a minute in and the tears were streaming down my face. For Matt, but also for this community I’ve come to love, and the band that has brought us all together. This world is often dark and violent and horrible but this is the same world where this music exists. The same world where people who love something beautiful can come and celebrate it together. Who can just float along and fill their lungs as one for a little while.
The last song of the night was “The Dripping Tap,” which was terrifying to be in the pit for. I did honestly think at one point that I was going to get crushed and asphyxiate. But I held on, and danced as well as I could, and watched them rock so hard there was nothing left to leave on that stage. And then it was done, and they were thanking us and bowing and taking photos, and Joey was leading us in a “Free Palestine” chant, and telling us that they would see us next year. (NEXT YEAR!!) Then they walked off stage, and it was over. Three nights, three shows, nine hours of Gizz, no repeats, all love. Glowing.
I love this band and everything they’ve brought to my life: friends, new places, creativity, wonder. The inspiration to do what I want and try new things and be loud and weird about what sets me on fire, because who cares in the end if you’re cringe or uncool? King Gizz has never cared, and they’re the coolest rockers I know. They show up in amazing drag, wearing cutoff shirts and flapper dresses and pink wigs, and proceed to blow everyone’s mind with their music. They write strange lyrics that are strangely beautiful. They have odd time signatures and wacky concepts. They speak out for Gaza, they leave Spotify, they bring audience members on stage to play, they champion artists, they loudly support the queer and trans communities, and they do everything with love and compassion. Because they don’t give a shit what’s trendy or popular or what will sell or what anyone thinks. They just genuinely love what they do, and they genuinely love their people, and their fans, and the world. And they inspire us to do the same.
Now I know, looking back, what Andie meant before the show when she told me I was glowing. I was probably grinning ear-to-ear, with all my Gizz gear on, stoked to get into the pit and maybe crowdsurf and maybe hear “Float Along - Fill Your Lungs,” and maybe cry a little bit with all the joy and goodness of the weekend. I was probably giving off the kind of contentment I feel on a thru-hike: a complete lack of desire to be anywhere else. Pure presence, pure light. The fact that a band and its fans can do that to me is wild. Gizz and the Weirdo Swarm are a gift. I’m grateful.
PS: Check out Matt’s GoFundMe page here.
