‘Twas a cool September night, just past midnight on a Sunday, when Hollywood Forever Cemetery’s gates creaked open to allow a massing crowd to enter and lay claim to haunted real estate in anticipation of a rather unique exhibition: Bon Iver, fronted by famously hermitic Wisconsinite Justin Vernon, was slated to play a sunrise show in Los Angeles as the crowning pièce de résistance to its nearly two-year tour.
Once inside the graveyard, concert-goers spread out blankets, sleeping bags, picnics, and candles on the lawn beside what I’ve always understood is Valentino’s Cathedral Mausoleum. Over the course of the night, organizers projected several Vernon-selected films and shows on the large white mausoleum wall, a la Cinespia nights. The singer chose a few of my personal favorites for the evening, including Wes Anderson’s original classic Bottle Rocket and “Episode 8: Jungles” of the Planet Earth series. Between the films, DJs kept the crowd awake and moving with jams by artists as varied as Tammy Wynette, the Dirty Projectors, and Sade, again hand-picked by Vernon.
I kept warm throughout the night with a multitude of Kalimotxos and several blankets, and remained concious thanks to some choice Bolivian marching powder Red Bulls, while many around me succumbed to naps before the set was to begin. The feeling of camaraderie among the attendees was palpable, and everyone, sleeping or not, seemed content in the surroundings. Around 3am, I ventured out on a Port-a-Potty mission and glanced back toward the lawn just as a thick and incredibly eerie fog rolled in from the west, streaming through the palm trees bordering the seating area and overcoming the plentiful headstones nearby. Within a couple minutes, it had enveloped the entire cemetery, hanging cold and wet over everything and everyone, muffling sounds and lending an appropriately spooky air to the night.
(An aside: Legend holds that for many years after Valentino’s death, a mysterious black-clad woman frequented his crypt with flowers in hand. The fog brought the tale to mind, and I soon found myself questioning many of the shapes that I could make out in the distance.)
At 5:45am, the film projections and music ceased, and silence fell over the crowd for several long moments until it was finally broken by an initially unrecognizable chant. A group of Buddhist monks slowly materialized to bless the crowd, the performers and the locale. As their united voices echoed through the early morning air, a sense of security and tranquility washed over the assembly. Those who had been sleeping awoke, and all sat in quiet contemplation and reverence.
Immediately after the ceremony, Vernon appeared on an adjacent stage and briefly introduced his band’s first song, “Wisconsin,” which provided an ideal transition into the set. Though they played extended versions of nearly every track on their breakthrough album, For Emma, Forever Ago, the singer paused before the final song to announce that, because of their limited material (For Emma being their debut compilation), the band would not play an encore. Attendees, content in their blankets and hoodies, accepted the announcement sans protest. As Vernon et al. progressed through their set, the sky brightened before the sun finally rose from the haze, and the congregation amassed in this makeshift temple came into clear view, illuminated by the day’s first light and transfixed by the ethereal melodies flowing from the stage. A truly lovely experience, friends…
