With the election finally in the collective rearview mirror, we have the space to ask: What have we done to ourselves, to our communities, what might our places be in this brave new America? I find myself longing to remember what it means to be human beyond the daily grind of political battles. There is a deep need to reconnect with something richer, something untouched by division. For most of us, our political dramas ultimately do nothing to define who we are or the lives we choose to live with the time we have. Regardless of why we’re blessed with this chance to live—right here, right now, on this ledge of rock hurtling through the cosmos at unimaginable speeds—I don’t think our political battles will ever get us any closer to the big existential questions. which matters most. Why are we here? How can we find meaning? And how can we connect with each other through our differences?

It’s time to return to our human experience and fill it with the things that bring us joy and connection before we can no longer.

Sitting in a sea of ​​strangers at Meow Wolf this Saturday night, I felt that very pull. With its surreal, immersive glowing walls, the venue creates the perfect atmosphere for something intimate and electric. I was there to see Bear Hands, a band that, after some time away from the scene, returned with a powerful reminder of what it means to create and connect. I had the chance to sit down with Dylan Rau, the lead singer and songwriter of Bear Hands, before the show, and in our conversation I was transported – not only back to the early days of my own music journalism journey, but also to a place in that resilience, unity and shared experience still dominate.

This album is also something special for me. It was the first piece of music I’ve logged into on my own since my wife died. For me, it almost symbolizes finding myself – a rebirth into a new life, with new people and new music. It’s a new beginning that, while bittersweet, reminds me of the power of art to help us process and move on.

Bear Hands’ music that night pulsed through the walls with an energy that felt almost therapeutic. Art, at this point, was a common language, one that allowed everyone in the room to transcend their daily struggles and reach something that politics would never reach. Their latest album, The Key to What, was produced during a time of isolation and yet brings listeners back to the most basic connection – the connection to our shared human experience. It’s a record marked by themes of substance use, personal reflection, and the often messy journey of simply being alive.

In our interview, Dylan shared that for him, songwriting is a form of self-therapy. He talked about the challenges of working on the new album during the pandemic. “I had just moved to Oregon,” he explained, “and it was isolated in a way I hadn’t experienced before.” The songs were created over email, with the East Coast band and producer Elliot Colz, known for his work with Lizzo, on the production end. The collaborative process itself has become a metaphor for the broader disconnect that many of us have felt in recent years.

“Floor It”, one of the earliest songs on the album, was inspired by his travels with his cat, Billy. “I haven’t done a lot of real roading,” Dylan admitted with a laugh. “Billy wouldn’t have put up with that – he’d be crawling over the car after 15 minutes. But the image remained, something simple and a little chaotic.” The song captures the idea of ​​moving forward in a time when moving forward was difficult, echoing the restlessness many of us feel when faced with life’s uncertainties.

The album also dives deep into themes of substance use, particularly in tracks like “Adderall / Ambien”. Dylan hasn’t been shy about talking about his own history with addiction. “I consider myself an ex-junkie,” he said frankly. “Drugs shaped most of my adult life, and although I’m in a better place now, I’m still fascinated by the culture and emotional drama of it all. There’s a lot to unpack there, and it fuels the lyrics in an honest way, even if it’s not always comfortable.” His honesty resonated with me as well. I know the complexities of addiction and the impact it can have on someone’s life.

When I asked him if he ever worried about how younger fans might interpret these themes, Dylan paused thoughtfully. “I know it might offend someone, but I don’t think it’s my responsibility to edit what I say. Writing is therapeutic for me and I have to let it reflect my own experiences. If people find something there that resonates—if it makes them feel less alone or more understood—that makes sense to me.”

Perhaps it was because I felt so vulnerable myself that his willingness to be open on stage and in his music created a powerful connection that night at Meow Wolf. As the audience sang, swayed and moved along, it became clear that while politics might shape parts of our world, it is music and art that shape our souls. With its raw energy and emotional weight, the live performance felt like a much-needed balm—a reminder of the human connections that exist beneath the surface of our political identities. Music like Bear Hands doesn’t just tell stories; it invites us to see our own stories reflected.

When I left Meow Wolf that night, the music still ringing in my head, I felt more human, more connected than I had in weeks. Friends who saw the pictures of the event I shared on social media commented that I looked really happy – I was. And it made me wonder, what would our communities look like if we spent more time like this—immersed in shared experiences that remind us of our humanity? Imagine a world where we looked to art, music, and conversation to bring us together instead of letting political lines divide us.

Life, after all, is more than the sum of our political choices. It’s about finding moments of connection and meaning that transcend the ballot box, that speak to the essence of what it means to be alive. At a Bear Hands concert, surrounded by strangers who, for one night, were united by the same rhythm, I felt that truth more than ever.

So as we move out of the election cycle and into what lies ahead, we should find time to reconnect with our communities, engage with the arts, listen to music, and remember that our lives are made up of more than headlines and political affiliations. We need to seek spaces where we can just be and rediscover our humanity in the echo of music and connection.

If you haven’t yet experienced Meow Wolf’s intimate and visceral live music venue, you really should. See which bands you connect with are playing there soon and catch a show. It did my soul good and is now one of my favorite places to experience live music.

Originally published: November 15, 2024 at 7:31 am MST