Last Thursday I walked down my street to a neighborhood house, knocked on the door of a person I had never met, and was invited in to listen to David Bazan.
A bar height chair was set in the corner of the living room, between the fireplace filled with votive candles and a warm glow of a lamp on the other side. The host had the vibe just right. Bazan walks in as if he were a friend invited over to play. He begins to tune as the crowd who was once standing awkwardly around the living area of this quaint house, now starts to take their seats. Just watching everyone arrange themselves in such a considerate manor is a testament to the living room session. Absolute respect for the home, the musician, and each other. The kind of respect that can only be derived from understanding and appreciation for what everyone is about to experience.
Bazan begins to play and then answers some questions. This is when the fans, who have been listening with intent silence, show their excitement. This is also when Bazan, becomes more than a musican and reveals all those genuine and sincere parts of his character that are perceived through his music, in the flesh. After answering a questions about religion and raising his children, Bazan asks if anyone else has any questions, then jokes "It doesn't have to be as personal, or it can be." While Bazan is in the living room he is an open book.
Bazan closes with the favorite "Bands With Managers", thanks everyone, and as the crowd shuffles around the living room, he casually exits. I suspected this was more out of respect for the host (as not to create lingering fans inside their living room), because as we walked out, we noticed he hadn't left. Bazan was standing in the front yard. We were able to thank him personally, shook his hand, and as we walked back home I looked back and noticed he was chatting and taking photographs with the little crowd that gathered that night just for him.
Video// By Brad Cordova // Vimeo