An American Girl goes to a concert in Brussels: Wilco.

 I've been to my fair share of concerts.  Minneapolis is a great venue for all sorts of music, from outdoor festivals, to First Ave to stadium settings, the whole range.  But concerts here are unlike anything I've ever experienced.

Last week, we went to see Wilco (for those not familiar with the band, their most popular songs are "Box Full of Letters" - late 90's, "Heavy Metal Drummer" - summer 2003 and more recently "I Might" from their new album, The Whole Love.)  I've seen Wilco preform before.  One of my top ten favorite concerts of all time was Wilco at the Orpheum (or maybe it was the State Theater - I get them confused) for the Yankee Hotel Foxtrot Tour.  Last week, we were twenty feet away from them at the Ancienne Belgique.

Anything at the Ancienne Belgique (for my Minneapolis friends, think First Ave) also makes it easily onto my top ten list.  To get to see a band that has steadily gained fame in the United States, but is not as well known in a foreign country, like the Counting Crows or Wilco, means you get to see them in a club venue like they would have played in the United States before they were well known.

We've found the best seats (well, not seats, spot to stand) in the entire club.  The first balcony, as close as you can get to the stage (which we got just moments before they went on stage).  From our viewpoint, not only were we twenty feet away from the band, but we had a bird's eye view of the entire floor.

And wow.  Concert goers here are so different than in the United States.  They are conservative, to say the least.  Their spot was their spot.  No one tried to move closer to the stage.  They were almost standing in straight rows going back from the stage.  Personal space was completely respected.  No one moved.  Not very many sang.  That's not something this Minnesota Girl can relate to.  They clapped and cheered, of course.  And after an hour or so into it, when Wilco frontman Jeff Tweedy asked if everyone was having fun, people shouted a few different songs, but that was about it.

It's not necessarily a mosh pit kind of band, but looking out over this crowd with such a respect for personal space, I wondered if there had ever been such a thing as a mosh pit within these walls.  

Now I'm not out of control by any means, but I hopped a little, and I bopped a little, and I definitely sang along.  Some songs, I sang more loudly than others.  At the brief pause before the final set, I turned to the Dutchman next to me and asked if he had ever seen them before.  Twice, he answered.  And then he said "you obviously have."

As an expat, I am thankful for a lot of things.  On that night at the Ancienne Belgique, I was thankful for the chance to see a favorite American band, in a small European venue.  I was thankful to have a good babysitter that meant we could venture into Brussels for a night out.

But I was mostly thankful that the lyrics were in my first language and I could easily sing along -- which was something I'd never even thought about before.