to the boy in the first row

i’ve cried a lot these last few days. and i don’t think that’s a bad thing. i’m releasing whatever it is i need to let go of, working through what’s been coming up, sifting through my bursts of feeling to separate what’s real from what’s dramatic.

i’ve been quite isolated, focused on work. i got home from practice last night, ready to smoke a joint, have dinner, and go to bed early, when the phone rang. it was my creative director, who hates being referred to as a creative director, inviting me to jahson paynter’s private performance at slow jamz in dtla.

i immediately resisted going which meant i had to go. i know myself well enough now to differentiate between when i’m being avoidant and anti-social, and when i actually need to say no.

i begrudgingly changed out of my sweats and took an uber. s took me up to the greenroom, where the band and crew were watching basketball on the tv. i immediately felt out of place, so i did the classic reach for my phone and pretend to look busy. i was actually doing the midi crossword on the nyt app, iykyk. there was small talk and awkward pacing, and then finally everyone but the band was sent down to take our places for the performance.

i love going to concerts when i’ve never heard the music before. it seems to me that the purest way to hear someone’s music is when it’s stripped down and right in front of you. that sounded vaguely sexual but you know what i mean — no distractions, no bells and whistles.

every song was honest and raw, and jahson’s voice and songwriting held the wisdom of a much older man. yet between songs he kept repeating, “this is so fun, i’m having so much fun”, with childlike glee. it was clear he was doing exactly what he was meant to be doing. i kept thinking, his inner child must be so happy. i wanted to tell him that, but didn’t. i though it might come off weird.

everyone was bopping their heads and stomping their feet. some had their eyes closed. a couple across from me held each other and swayed. s was filming, and i felt deeply moved.

there was a boy standing up front, mouthing every lyric to every song like they were his own. he couldn’t look away from jahson, and i couldn’t look away from him. in his teary eyes, i saw my own, and those of anyone who understands the impact music can have on you, how it can reach you when nothing else can, especially when you’re young.

there is nothing like the first time an artist speaks directly to you through their work. it’s a bond you create for life. this kid will probably hear jahson’s songs in thirty, forty years and be brought right back to that moment. the rapture of his youth will wash over him, and his teenage face will suddenly flash beyond the reshaping of old age.

i saw lana del rey at osheaga when i was fifteen years old. i lied and told my mom i was heading home in time for curfew because there was no way i would pass up the opportunity to see my idol perform. just like that kid last night, i knew every word to every song. i was singing and crying and irrevocably changed. how she made me feel, that was what i wanted to give to others. that night, charged by rebellion and my first joint, i discovered my deep desire to connect, to stir emotions, and to conjure experiences.

last night reminded me of all of that, and i’m so thankful that it did.

i cried in the uber on the way home.