Blues? What blues? I don’t got ’em.

I was reawakened this past weekend. Yes, yes, I hear what you’re saying. 

“Reawakened? Over the weekend? How can that be?”

I’ll tell you. 

I went and experienced one of the most important things to me in live, living color. 


I went to the concert of hands down, one of my favorite musical geniuses. Who that is, isn’t important. I fear that people are glued to their genres:

“Pop is for tweens”

“Rap is crap”

“Country is for hicks”

“Only stoners listen to indie music”

“So you’re like, emo, then?”

Music is the universal language. I don’t care how the notes are put together, I care about the message. The words. The way that you feel when you hear your favorite song, or one that brings back the best memories of your life.

I remember the song that I first danced with someone to (7th grade, “I’ll Be” by Edwin McCain, Alex D. For the win.)

I remember the song that was playing when, like a ton of bricks, I realized I was in love with my boyfriend, when at the time, we each had significant others (“Falling for You”, Colbie Caillat, and sorry to our exes that it didn’t work out. I thank both of you though and wish you the best).

I remember hearing “Slide” by the Goo Goo Dolls and never wanting to grow up. 

“Can’t Stop” by Red Hot Chili Peppers reminds me of being on the beach in high school and planning out my future, which looking back, was a pipe dream that I should have followed through with. 

When I had my heart broken for the first time, I played Dashboard over, and over, and over, and over again.

My point, dear friends, is this: Music changes us. Music allows us to be the people that we truly are, or to find the person that we aspire to be. Music is what our souls dance to. Music allows me to breathe and feel. And there are songs and artists that I owe my life to who will never even know my name. 

So while I stood there this past Saturday night, in an arena filled with 70,000 other people, just staring out into the crowd in awe and wonder, I took a break. And while everyone else sang and danced along, I pondered… Aside from my friends, I didn’t know anyone there. And yet I could tell you that all of them spent money to come out, for one night only, to see someone perform. I felt touched. I felt completed. Like I was apart of something. 

And as if on queue, the performer broke in the middle of the song and said, “If you’ve been watching news lately, you all know that the whole world has problems. I have problems, you have problems, we all have problems. But I’ll tell you what, guys. We don’t have to solve a single thing tonight. Sit back and enjoy and forget about everything, if only for just one night." 

And that’s exactly what I did. I stopped thinking. I just listened, and sang, and enjoyed. It was like the performer had said the magic words, everyone cheered and could relate to what they were saying. I felt moved. And when I woke up the next morning, I was instantly hit with all of the perils of being a 20-something and the things that I would have to face this week. But I turned on my iPod, put my earbuds in, and decided to just breathe and tap my foot to the beat. Music will see me through. 

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