Nov 20, 2014
I consider myself composed. I don’t raise my voice. I think before I speak. I even keep a color-coded planner of what assignments I plan to finish first. But there’s something about the impassioned ambiance of live music performances that turns me into a crazed teenage girl, screaming amidst the crowd, unexpectedly crushing on the good-haired lead singer.
I like to think that “in the moment” factors evoke these displaced feelings. There’s an immeasurable difference between listening to your favorite band on Spotify and watching them play in real life. Everything appears different under something-thousand watt lighting fixtures, fog machines, couch-sized stereos, and a crowd of fans that you can blend into. At concerts, what you do doesn’t matter. Dance like a manic, and no one will judge you. The music hall is a safe haven for the audience to relax and forget about everything else, even if it is just for a few hours.
I remember the very first concert I went to – The Cheetah Girls: Cheetah-licious Christmas tour. I was around eight years old at that time and very much obsessed with anything Disney Channel. One night, my dad came home and surprised me with two tickets. I stood in awe, unable to comprehend that I was going to see my celebrity idols from T.V. in real life. The day of the concert, my dad and I waited in our spots, shoulder to shoulder to other little girls and their mothers. The second the girls stepped onto stage, donned in wild performance attire, the entire crowd erupted. Some were screaming “I love you”, others began to cry. I stood there, bright-eyed, thinking “Wow, this is what a concert feels like”. Now, every time I go to a concert, whether it be an enormous show at the NRG Stadium, or an intimate performance at Fitzgerald’s, the atmosphere rouses a nostalgia for my first experience.
To this day, my dad argues that the Cheetah Girls concert was the most uncomfortable place he’s ever been in. He was the only middle-aged man, overpowered by the amount of estrogen, awkwardly stuck between hysterical little girls. However, I believe he secretly enjoyed it. It’s hard to dislike the live music scene, where everything unites into a single deafening cadence of music and fervor.
I swear I saw him tap his foot.
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