Dear Death Cab,
Thank you for playing Transatlanticism in its entirety last night. Thank you for not speaking between songs because “that’s not how you’d listen to an album.” Thank you for making me cry like an idiot in the middle of thousands of people.
Thank you for turning the 5 minute long We Looked Like Giants into a solid 10 minutes of pure glory. Thank you for encapsulating everything I ever was in one album; for being the most beautifully nostalgic noise I’ve ever heard. Thank you for reminding me of everything that was supposed to happen in my life but didn’t; it was terribly sad to remember what I’d wanted, but it was necessary for me to remember.
Thank you for being hilarious, Ben Gibbard and Sassy McSasserson (Chris Walla), after you’d finished Transatlanticism and you dedicated the next batch of songs to your first label (this one’s for you, guys!); Chris, sitting at keyboard, piped up and said, “This is a frugal song…about frugality.” Thank you, Ben, for randomly realizing that you’d worn the same shirt in 2003 (“I’m fucking not even kidding…I was wearing this shirt!”) and talking about how you “don’t change clothes just because fashion dictates it.” Lovely little monkey. It was a great shirt, by the way. Thank you, Ben, for rocking back and forth as you sing because you just can’t help it. Thank you for practically moonwalking.
Thank you for being so good live that I forgot about the buffoons sitting behind me who were so drunk I was legitimately concerned for their safety. Thank you for being so good that they knew all the words to every single one of your songs, too, even when completely sloshed.
Thank you for stealing every word from me. I wanted to write a long blog post about you but can’t even put any of it into words. These sentences are barely coherent or cohesive, but I want you all to know that I love you. Everything you’ve done is precious to me, and you have a permanent place in my heart.