Looking back at 2007, I never thought a band could play a part in my life journey. Sure, I love many bands and I’m an avid fan of a particular band, but Copeland has always held a special place in my heart. The first time I saw them, at the mere age of 17, I was still discovering music and what I’d enjoy in the long run. I stumbled upon Copeland and when I heard the song “No One Really Wins”, it stuck with me throughout the years.
I remember being in Melbourne this year when I received a text from my friend saying that Copeland will be heading to Singapore in a few months. I had missed out their Farewell Tour 2010 and it has been nine years from the last time I saw them. There was a sudden flash of memories of the 2007 show, and I definitely could not afford to let history repeat itself.
I’ve always liked shows at TAB because of the very closed setting that gives you an omniscient experience from a gig. There was a meet and greet session with the band prior to the concert and it was strange to witness how much they’ve changed over the years. I felt oddly old, but I was ever so pumped for the concert that night.
I stood right in front of Aaron’s keyboard setup and made sure I get to see his each and every facial expression when he performs.
“Have I Always Loved You?” from their latest album, Ixora, kicked off the band’s 21-song set and the crowd roared. The song hits home and the lyrics distracted me for a bit as it got hold of an area of my heart that has been tucked away for years. As I looked up at Aaron, I could feel the emotions in tandem with the crowd as we swayed our heads to the voice of an angel. I looked around me and I see the crowd mouthing word for word; the night just started but already it felt intensely familiar.
“I Can Make You Feel Young Again” was the song many of the long time fans needed that night to remind us that no matter how old we get as the years go by, there’s always a kid in us and that will never go away even at the age of 50, or as we are pushing 70. It also serves as a reminder for us to be forward-looking. I spotted a man in the audience who was singing to the song with his eyes closed as he mouthed the lyrics with full gusto and had his hands up in the air. He felt what many of us felt that day but he was living in it. I could only afford to smile because I doubt that I would be ever so expressive, but I was wrong.
As soon as Aaron started belting out the notes and began singing “Sweetest taste of your armour, I can never mold”, I gasped and my eyes widen and I was telling myself “hold back those tears”. This particular song, “Erase”, got me good like no other could as every single word is a true depiction of how my life transpired in the last two years. It was painful to sit through the song but I heard an angelic voice from the crowd, at the corner of my ear, a girl singing along and it felt surreal yet emotional. Slowly, I felt tears trickling down my eyes and I wiped them off almost immediately as I tapped my heart and say ‘remain strong’.
The evening progressed to include fan favourites, from “Chin Up” to “Coffee”, and “The Day I Lost My Voice (The Suitcase Song)”. So I thought, what are the odds of having them play “No One Really Wins”? But sure enough, they did not disappoint. The sudden surge of memories like I was on a ride in a DeLorean caught me hard and I felt like I was in the body of my 17-year-old self. That moment felt fresh and pure.
This was the first show I’ve ever attended where fans were provided the opportunity to craft a setlist of their choice, and select the songs for them to perform. I’ve never been more thankful for that fact, as many of them seem to share similar sentiments on our favourite jams of yesteryears.
The night brought me through a whirlwind of emotions, covering both ends of the spectrum – happy and sad. Copeland is not just a band. They are a part of the journey in my life and I can’t thank them enough for the wonderful music they’ve bestowed us with. Thank you Anthology and Snowbird Productions for allowing us to reminisce and relive the sweet memories of the years gone by.