It’s rare to leave a concert these days without sore legs and without having heard someone speak inspired words about peace and saving the world — not that there’s anything wrong with that. The last concert I went to was a group of Harlem rappers who mainly talked about smoking weed and shooting people in the jaw, and they even found time for monologues about how we were all there for one thing: love. It’s not that I disagree with their assessment, but it seems like on some level there’s something else about their music that they’re not addressing.
On Friday night in Cro’s Nest, I went to a different concert, featuring a band by the name of Melodeego. Their concept is unique: one band, a few bikes attached to generators and batteries, some fans willing to do some pedaling and an hour-and-a-half of revolution-inspired liberal music. The result adds up to something very different from any concert I’ve attended. Yes, you’ll still leave with sore legs, and you’ll hear some lofty peace talk, but it’s a concert that’s literally “powered by the people.”
Entering Cro’s Nest, I was struck by the feeling I picked up from the crowd. This was certainly no gangster rap show, not even a Saturday night Cro Dance. Maybe Melodeego’s music won’t ever be seen on the Billboard charts or in the Pitchfork review section, but it’s soulful and warm, and creates a fun atmosphere. I couldn’t help but notice that their clothing was a bit non-rock-and-roll compared to what you might see from other bands, but I think that was part of the point. People in front of the stage danced some of the cleanest dancing I’ve ever seen at Connecticut College, while others made their way off to the left, waiting in line to climb onto the biking contraption in groups of three. Between songs the band made sure to invite everyone in the room for a turn on the bikes, saying, “If you want to make some clean energy, step over here.” At another break, the lead singer spoke about their unconventional equipment, explaining, “We wanted to play a show for you guys, but we didn’t want to burn any fossil fuels doing it.”
Melodeego decided to start playing bike-powered concerts after the Deepwater Horizon oil spill in the summer of 2010. According to its website, “The band decided to take a stand against dirty, dangerous fossil fuels.” Since then, the band has played at a variety of different liberal-populist demonstrations across the East Coast, including Occupy protests in New York City; Boston; Washington, D.C. and Vermont, in venues like state house rallies and countless other public and community spaces.
Even if Melodeego’s music isn’t the kind you look for when you go out with your friends, at some level they’re saying something worth paying attention to — something a whole lot bigger than music. At your average concert, there’s a distinct divide between those on stage and everyone else in the room. People reach their hands into the air towards the stage when the person holding the microphone runs over their way, hoping with every particle of their being that the performer will reach out and grab their hand. It’s like you’re a real human, and they’re something a lot more than that. There’s value in that, but I also think there’s something in the uniqueness with which Melodeego performs.
For most of my time at the concert, I found myself looking at the people riding the bikes instead of at the musicians. Sometimes they were people I knew, and usually they were at least people whose faces I recognized from passing or from that class last semester. They were a part of the performance just as much as the band members. Being there, it was a little hard to believe that the power put out by pedaling three bikes was enough to produce noise at the sound level I was hearing. When I finally got a turn to pedal a bike myself, it was even harder to believe, but the sound never stopped and the show went on.
Since then, I’ve thought of how much money it would cost to power a concert, and about how much power you can save if you and two friends decide to bike to the store instead of drive there. And how many light bulbs you could conceivably light if you hooked up a generator to the bikes in the Athletic Center. And what the worth of a song is as a unit of electricity. What I’ve been most struck by is the way that seeing two different groups of musicians preach about peace and love can leave such different impacts. Sure, I’ll probably be listening to the rap group I saw last month more in the future than I’ll be listening to Melodeego, but I’ll also never look at a speaker or a bike the same way, and I think that’s what Melodeego wanted me to do.
