The mesmerism of Dead Can Dance

I would have felt poorer if I hadn’t seen Dead Can Dance at the Ancient Theatre in Plovdiv. I would have felt less heartened than I am today, less immune to “the insatiable thirst for power” and less certain of our mandate for generosity of spirit. Lisa and Brendan sang with uninhibited joy, kindness and compassion of historic proportion, breathing life and “dance” into the white Roman marble and uniting the hordes of happy humans who joined their celebration. After the concert, in fact, after the last note of “Severance”, a flock of white birds soared and circled above the amphitheatre for hours, as if guarding the habitat of positive vibrations. Hundreds of happy humans stared at the white birds in the sky, smiling in the balmy night.

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