Like a Fire In The Dark
On Seeing The Oh Hellos One Last Time
“Hello, my old heart, how have you been?” (Hello My Old Heart)
It’s a Tuesday night at the House of Blues in Dallas and tears are on my face as soon as The Oh Hellos start playing.
It’s hard to explain the depth of love I have for this band, the way their songs sound like home and have tracked alongside the most pivotal moments in my life so far. Every time I try to pull one thread, a dozen more come tumbling out.
I first encountered this indie-folk duo in a dark backyard over 13 years ago as a freshman in college. A friend played a track from their first EP over a cellphone next to a flickering fire pit. Out came the gentle words: “I have made mistakes, I’ll continue to make them.” A soft ballad that reminded us that we’re not striving for perfection, that we grow most through challenging experiences.
It’s heartbreaking to think of the friends I no longer have who also loved this band at that time. The ones who claimed a faith of love and yet dismissed people as sinners based on their gender, sexuality, and more. Friends who probably couldn’t love me as I am now, and in some cases I’m not sure loved me as I was then, either.
The Oh Hellos were with me through my entire college experience and for the years after: figuring out who I was outside of academia, away from those friends, and eventually outside of the church.
My favorite song of theirs is “Hieroglyphs.” I have part of the lyrics tattooed on my arm, “both sacred and dust,” from this verse:
“Well, even the great celestial hieroglyphs
Are bodies of dust illuminated, and if
The heavens can be both sacred and dust
Oh, maybe so can the rest of us”
The song was freeing for me as I made my choice to leave the church. To consider that sacred wasn’t just about what went on in church walls.
After years of having Christian friends fretting so much about our bodies and what they did or did not do and who they loved, I was stepping into a time in my life where I realized the body was sacred. It’s not some prison we’re trying to escape or some animal we’re trying to control.
For me, The Oh Hellos’ songs repeatedly touch on a deep grief and a deep hope for the world, the only things that still resonate with me since I left the church. They masterfully weave language and story to explore redemption, love, where our beliefs come from and what we should do with them.
I’ve seen them live five times now. They announced this was likely their last tour for the foreseeable future, so the show we saw in Dallas was likely the last time I will see The Oh Hellos perform live.
And while there is always grief when good things come to an end, what a gift to have experienced it all and a joy to see what’s next on the journey.
Through it all, even still:
“Heartache pales in comparison to love.” (Trees)