The Avetts are worth the wait. This is a scene setter story I wrote after waiting on line for one of the best Avett Brothers shows I have ever seen.
- Waiting outside The Smith. Photo courtesy of Martin Scoville.
You’re dancing around to keep warm. Doors don’t open for another hour. The sun is sinking and you’re losing what natural light is left and any warmth that might come with it. You shift your weight to one side and give the venue staff the deepest death scare you can muster; it’s not much because your face is frozen.
This is what it was like to stand on line outside the Smith Opera House in Geneva, NY last Sunday night. This is what it’s like when you’re part of the Avett Nation. The Avett Nation is a loyal group of humans who follow the Avett Brothers and everything they stand for.
The Avett Brothers are a band. But not just a band; they are a family, they are a movement, a machine. If you’re asking why, then you haven’t seen them live, it’s nearly indescribable.
(Note: I’ll do my best a little later on to tell you about it.)
If you joined the Nation before the Avetts signed with Rick Rubin, chances are you’ve already seen a show. Maybe you haven’t seen them in a venue quite like The Smith. Since the production of their album I and Love and You, venue size has increased noticeably.
The Smith Opera House does not stand out on the block. It looks rather ordinary nestled in between a record shop and a pub. A brick building with glass doors, not run down or extravagant, just there. The record shop is closed; no one gives it another glance. The pub becomes a sanctuary; warmth after hours of the bitter cold. No one strays for too long though, for the diehard fans, the end of the line is unacceptable.
The line is a monster in itself. Fans wrapped in blankets, sitting in canvas camp chairs, eating out of take out containers all make their place in line like a little home. Without someone to hold their spot, they’re not going anywhere.
The sea of people that are standing outside make The Smith look more like a soup kitchen than an opera house. The age range is from four to 64. No cultural or economic trend is visible among them. There is every body type, facial structure, hair color and clothing style. Everyone looks the same, cold.
It’s easy to pick out who has been there the longest. Not just because they’re at the front of the line, they are by far the most frozen. They are a section the group that calls themselves “Team Avett.” Members of Team Avett are easy to spot once you’re in a venue or right before the doors open: a few minutes before doors open, they remove their jackets, each one dons a red and white baseball tee with their respective number. It seems like they have a private connection with each other but they do their time in line with everyone else.
Members of Team Avett joke about huddling like penguins. This sparks a discussion on March of the Penguins and Morgan Freeman; anything to keep their minds off the cold. It is the last hour, the home stretch. The line leaders have been taking turns warming up in their cars for the last forty minutes, some of the late comers whisper about them losing their spots but would never dare inching closer.
The line has been told: No leaning on the glass, don’t touch the outside décor and no photography. All will be searched. The monster prepares, becomes much less unruly. Preparation is key for a good spot up front. A good spot up front is always worth another hour when you’re waiting in line for The Avett Brothers.