By Zeina Al-Ramahi
Is there actually an empire on the sun? I know this is a ridiculous question. But somehow, Empire of the Sun’s concert at the Mystic Lake Amphitheater in Shakopee, Minnesota, made it feel like anything was possible. Whether it was the alternating flashes of light, the secluded dome that made up the stage set, or the light, magical drizzle of rain, August 14th became an unforgettable night of passionate dancing, singing, and reflection.
Formed in 2007, Empire of the Sun is an Australian electronic duo that blends the mesmerizing characteristics of alternative rock and the electrifying feel of electronic dance. Each song in their discography is characterized by a different set of provocative themes. Whether it’s commentary about “going through changes” or wanting to “forget all the troubles and just float,” their ability to discuss the most contemplative and resonating topics truly marks their talent as musicians. Although I had not listened to the entirety of their songs before, I felt very much at home walking into the amphitheater a day before moving into college. The young crowd wore short denim skirts, gold waist chains, and glittery tops.
The concert began with two opening bands. The first was Midnight Generation, a disco electronic pop band from Chihuahua, Mexico. Even though I didn’t recognize any of their songs, I found the carefully programmed flashing lights and the rhythmic beats of the two large pulsating conga drums to be quite thrilling. Their mumbling lyrics and Spanish slang blended uniquely with the house music twist they showcased throughout their performance. I have to admit, however, that I was only half paying attention since I wasn’t able to sing along.
The second act was the French house-electronic duo Polo & Pan. Their tropically oriented notes paired fascinatingly with the grimy, coarse French vocals. Every now and then, I glanced around me and saw people forming dance circles. Young women waving their arms in the air. Boyfriends twirling them around. Tipsy teenagers taking the rave-like beats as their opportunity to do the frat flick. While I enjoyed their music for the first half of their setlist, I became a little tired after an hour had passed. Imagine a whole 60 minutes (or more, honestly I’m not sure) of monotone club music. That’s what it sounded like. By the time the clock struck 9 pm, all I wanted was for Empire of the Sun to emerge from the ominous black curtains. Finally, as the sky became blanketed with dark clouds, Polo & Pan finally left the stage. Then the anticipation really started building up inside me.
Although I had listened to Empire of the Sun’s songs before, I didn’t realize how much I resonated with their lyrics. Standing on the sloped hill, squeezed together by people who simply could not stop moving to the eccentric, mythical sound waves emanating from Luke Steele’s and Nick Littlemore’s mouths. Heat waves wove through the crowd, both warmth from the glowing strum of the electric guitars and the fading sun. The lawn shook the minute their huge top hats and villainous cloaks came into sight. As they stepped into their respective positions, microphones in hand, a collective excitement radiated through the summer wind. Their voices lit up the venue. I felt every emotion Luke Steele and Nick Littlemore wanted me to: pain, bliss, wistfulness.
Starting with my personal favorite, they played “We Are The People,” screaming, “are you going to leave me now?” In that moment, I remembered the first time my sister played it for me. Blasting in the car with the windows down. Driving to Sebastian Joe’s, our local ice cream shop. Dreaming of raspberry chocolate chip goodness and nostalgic conversation.
Empire of the Sun’s stage presence felt like I was in a fairy tale. As they sang “Cherry Blossom,” “High and Low,” and “Changes,” their carefully crafted instrumental movements encouraged every single person in the audience to let go of whatever was occupying their minds. The duo was mesmerizing. The blue glow of lights and mountainous structures constructed the scene of another planet. As they reached down to touch their fans’ hands, their humanity enveloped the air. With my arms around my friends’ shoulders, none of us felt ashamed as we belted a mishmash of words and jumped up and down until our feet hurt.
As the final song came on. I closed my eyes, praying they were going to end with what I hoped for. When the opening lines of “Alive” filled the stadium, I let out a sigh of relief. I cherished every single lyric. Every single clash of the cymbals. Every single head nod to the beat. I was lucky to be alive. Their high-pitched voices guided the audience through a rollercoaster of recollections. I don’t think I saw a single person without at least a few tears in their eyes, grateful to be living and breathing this experience.
Although I would no longer be in Minnesota the next day, Empire of the Sun invited me to be grateful for everything I cherished about my hometown: blankets of snow, beautiful lakes to swim in, and of course, a robust music scene. By the time they finished their last minute of singing, thick droplets of water rolled down my face. Leaning into my friends’ comforting embraces, something became clear: I really was “loving every minute.”
