Before Alvvays, I'd only photographed two shows without knowing there was ever a security check to get through. I just walked in with a camera.
Nobody blinked.
Then came a third show at the Vic, tickets gifted for a band I'd never heard of. I got stopped at the door with my camera, sent back to my friend's car, and walked back in empty-handed, potential shoot test case thwarted. That rejection stuck, and it came right back when I started thinking about shooting Alvvays.
They were touring hard off "Archie, Marry Me," and Thalia Hall was a real step up. First time I did research, and it wasn't encouraging: interchangeable lenses read as "professional" to venue security, funny given my Nikon wasn't a threat to anybody. The gear looked low-end-serious, but I sure wasn't.
I didn't want to just sneak in with this one. Really wanted to see them, and another rejection wasn't happening again. So I decided to get permission this time.
I emailed Thalia Hall directly, attaching a handful of shaky Chairlift photos from my first show as thin credentials.
Someone actually wrote back. A rep said he wanted me shooting the show that night, for the house. Relief, disbelief, and real fear hit all at once, in ten seconds flat. The conditions were simple enough: get the band, but also the room, the crowd, the whole feeling of the night. Three songs from the pit, no flash, then free rein after, with photos delivered the next day.
I owe that whole night to one Thalia Hall employee, and I've forgotten his name. Edward? Edgar? Evan? An email long gone. Interim marketing manager, he said, giving me a shot on delivery.
Standing in the pit waiting for Alvvays to walk out stage right, I was more nervous than I'd ever been with a camera, sneaking ones in included. I'd been let into a room I hadn't earned yet. When the lights dropped and the band walked out, something settled into what's stayed my favorite part of this whole thing since: doing it the agreed-upon way, in the open, with real permission behind me. To this day, I get frisson of pure joy when I hear Alvvays.
So wherever you are, Edward, Edgar, or Evan, I salute you.