The Sword Reunion Tour
After hours of in-game competition with friends, I started mindlessly clicking keys, barely focused on winning. Between rounds, I would turn to Spotify. When The Sword’s “Freya” queued from a suggested tracks playlist, the album cover immediately caught my eye: Ornamental gold swirls framing a warrior woman with a sick-ass sword. The opening riff hit me like a mace to my metaphorical helmet. I replayed it for the rest of the night; it checked all the boxes. The next morning, on a family trip to Dollywood, the new obsession set in. Instead of riding the trolley to the main entrance, I was crossing “The Black River.” The Sword’s mythical world merged with Dolly’s mountain town, creating a scene ripped from Skyrim.
When my dad and I talked about music, I’d often feel that half the stuff he said flew right over my head, but that day, he said something that caughtmy attention: The Sword. I was shocked, to be honest. The Sword felt like my discovery, realm I had stumbled upon myself. I turned and asked, “Did you just say The Sword?”
When we got home, we talked about it some more. “They sound like all the music I had imagined as a kid,” my dad told me. It was strange to know the band meant something so similar to my dad. I felt like I was uncovering family history, like I was following squarely in his footsteps. When The Sword eventually announced the extension to their reunion tour, I wasn’t the only one who was psyched. My dad and I snatched up tickets as soon as they went on sale. On the night of the show, I got to the Brooklyn Bowl early. Though my dad wasn’t able to make it, my girlfriend was able to take his ticket.
The air was hazy with vape smoke and rain. The line was a slow-moving sea of denim, patches, and beards. Upon making it to the floor, something hit me — we were definitely some of the youngest people in the venue. Everyone looked like they had been listening to Age of Winters (2006) while I’d been busy being born.
The opener, Rickshaw Billie’s Burger Patrol, with their fuzzed-out guitars and energetic take on stoner metal, was great. It was during their set that I bore witness to my first ever moshpit. Part of me wanted to get in there, but the larger part was even more intimidated. We carefully migrated toward the stage, seeking a better view while trying not to take any elbows to the face. While moving, a guy about my dad’s age, turned toward us. I cannot remember exactly what he said amidst the noise of Burger Patrol, but what I can recall are the stories of the shows he’d seen with his son: Corrosion of Conformity, Mastodon, Clutch––too many to name. When he mentioned that his son could not make it that night, I told him my dad wasn’t able to either, and we just nodded in understanding. It wasn’t so intimidating anymore.
Heralded by sci-fi sounds and flashing lights, The Sword finally emerged. As they began their set, it was everything I could have hoped for. Through the strobing lights, I saw the surrounding crowd of guys doing the stand-and-nod I’d seen my dad do so many times listening to music in our kitchen. Halfway through their set, a new pit formed. The guy in front of me had his beer spilled on him three times and did not seem to care. I watched a dad (who looked like Lamb of God frontman Randy Blythe’s twin) egg his son on to jump in. Every time his son came back out, covered in sweat, his dad would pull him into a hug and shout over the music. It was then that it really started to click. The Sword wasn’t just a band that my dad and I both liked––it was something larger than us. Everyone in the crowd had their own stories tied to The Sword’s songs: fathers and sons, couples, old friends, and strangers.
When the lights came on and the crowd started to file out, I didn’t feel like I was just leaving a show. I felt like I was stepping out of a dream — one that started in my dad’s head before bleeding into mine on a random summer night. That’s what music is at its best: a link between people.
Before I had gone into the show, my dad texted me: “I’m sure that you know, but I expect a review of the show tomorrow.” It’s a little late, I know, but here it is: the show was music at its best.
Cover image includes… THE SWORD photo credited to Ozzy Rules at English Wikipedia [via Wikimedia Commons]. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported license.
