Bring Arcade Fire to Work Day

In December of last year, Arcade Fire came to Dublin to play two nights at the O2. I was there for both of them, and I remain convinced that no other band can cause the same kind of joyous riot on stage that they do. On record, the band are exquisite. Live, they're even better; a raggedy, blistering mess, all deep breaths and impulsive dancing, intense stares and musical fireworks.

If you were there the first night, you may well have met me. I was one of the volunteers for Partners in Health, a genuinely incredible charity doing work in Haiti and elsewhere, and it was my job to wander around and attempt to charm and impress people into donating money to a truly worthy cause. The band have long been deeply involved with the charity; one of their most laudable commitments is to donate €1 from each ticket sold for each concert - and just as impressive is the way that Brande, the charity's representative on tour, forms a shambolic band of volunteers for each show, who then do their bit before the band take the stage.

When I received the email informing me that I was one of the lucky ones who'd get to take part, I was in a good mood. I was settling into a new job at Google, and I felt there was a chance the band might want to visit and perhaps do a little fundraising in the office. There's a constant stream of activism in Google - Movember was coming to a close, and another Age Engage event was in the works. So I sent off a mail suggesting the idea, and waited a while.

Touring being what it is, we didn't have anything fully confirmed until the night of the first gig, when I met Brande and Marika to discuss it. I knew as soon as I met them that if the talk went ahead, it would be wonderful. Their enthusiasm for Partners in Health was infectious, to hear them talk about it was to think about the great things that can be achieved when people set themselves aside and work for the benefit of others.



Shouting over the supporting band's set and the level of cold that seeped into the venue from Dublin's apocalyptic winter outside both meant that the next day my voice was almost gone, but somehow, with the help of some very kind colleagues, everything worked out, and I introduced a room full of Googlers to Brande, Marika and Regine, who kept the audience entranced for almost an hour. They spoke passionately about their engagement with PIH, about Paul Farmer and what he has achieved, about the terrific book that tells his story, Mountains Beyond Mountains. They told about mistakes and sadness, the horrors of the earthquake, the role of foreign governments in Haiti's misfortune, but never let these things stop them from remaining positive and unwavering in their belief that Haiti's future can be different.

Arcade Fire - Haiti {live at First Avenue}

Once you've met them, and heard how they speak about PIH and the work they do, it's impossible to remotely cynical about the band, despite the well-worn trope of the celebrity activist. They know what they're doing, and they know how necessary it is, and the world is a better place because of it.

Links and Further Reading

Donate to Partners in Health

Volunteer for an upcoming show

Learn about KANPE

Preview and buy Tracy Kidder's Mountains Beyond Mountains

Read Will Butler's blog about the band's visit to Haiti

Read Regine's Guardian article on the visit

{A quick word about the video - due to the last-minute nature of the talk, it was not professionally recorded, unfortunately. Thanks to Megan for putting together what we have on such short notice.}

something about a new day

Sandro Perri - Love and Light

It's hot outside today. Like, shimmering pavements hot, and everyone's kinda quiet, and a little shocked and awed, if you know what I mean, because it turns out the moon is a girl. A pretty girl, all subtle sway and sexy cast glances, and she's strolling around like she owns the place, which maybe she does. I mean, if it turns out the moon is someone you'd very much like to go to bed with, who knows what else might be going on.
I guess this is the kinda thing I'll tell my kids someday. I'll tell them how the moon stayed in the same place in the sky, not yielding to daylight, not moving on. I'll describe how she descended almost imperceptibly, like a balloon at first, but then like a great piece of cloth in the sky, grey and dappled. I'll tell them how she descended like a leaf, billowing in her dress past skyscrapers, reflected up high bright and dazzling like in some sort of hall of mirrors, and then settling slowly, the cloth tightening into a dress, the shadows and sparkle falling away like wrapping paper to reveal the woman sitting on the bench there by the river, smiling at us all.

This song is from Sandro Perri's new record. Sandro remains one of my favourite music-makers of all time, and I'm expecting him to move up the ranks with Impossible Spaces - out in October.