Today I was at the Norah Jones concert and I was constantly trying to observe this friend who's a huge fan. I was trying to imagine how she must be feeling when Norah was yet to arrive. Then I remembered the time I went to watch Incubus in concert.
Prior to the concert I thought I was gonna cry my eyes out, faint, cut my hand and write Brandon's name and all. But even on my way to the venue, I just wasn't quite getting there. I wanted to feel something - jitters, overwhelming emotions - but majorly I was just excited to fulfill what I set out to do.
Then I got to that very second when the band came on stage. Nothing. I had a smile on my face like any normal fan would. I wasn't sure how I was supposed to react. Suddenly it felt like I had something to prove. Like my 6 inch heels that I wore to the concert (I didn't want to be disadvantaged for the view cuz I'm short) or my knocked out spectacles or my high temperature or my spending thousands and thousands of rupees to get to Malaysia had to culminate in some proof of accomplishment, a miracle, a gift from God for which I'll always be thankful.
Instead, I sang to every song. Every word, while being pushed around to the point of having bruises on my body till a week later. The smile never left my face as I watched Mike looking all nerdy with his periodic table T-shirt, playing the most badass guitars, or Jose with his naughty childlike little-drummer-boy vibe, Chris K coyly dishing out the most ridiculous samples, Ben supporting Brandon with a mean bass and backup vocals AND Brandon, looking like a picture of serenity, with the genuinity of child and the words of a mad-wise man. And when the entire hall was reverberating with about 10,000 people singing Drive altogether, I was floating in a reverie, the only reason why I even believed it was reality was because I video recorded it.
They were not somebody I flew down and paid to watch. They were my family. In my mind, I had talked to them, laughed with them, hugged them a million times, cried with them, wished them well in their personal lives and thanked them for existing. You never even realize how much time you've invested into people who don't even know you. But they do know you. When they look into the crowd, and you think they're looking straight at you, you know they know you. Am I making any sense?
I'm their great fan. I'm one of their many great fans. There's nothing more beautiful than admiring someone to the point of obsession, as creepy as that may sound, than maybe getting together with people who share your obsession. We, on the innumerable Facebook groups, talk of Incubus as they were our best backstreet friends. Music seems coincidental. But music is the way we communicate. What would we be without music, obsessions and obsessions with music?
I'll never feel the way about Norah like my friend does. Hell, I'm not even sure if she feels about Norah the way I feel about Incubus. Because our love is so inexplicable, moreso private. So, I'm not sure I want to know. How the hell does it matter? I'll never understand it anyway.
Prior to the concert I thought I was gonna cry my eyes out, faint, cut my hand and write Brandon's name and all. But even on my way to the venue, I just wasn't quite getting there. I wanted to feel something - jitters, overwhelming emotions - but majorly I was just excited to fulfill what I set out to do.
Then I got to that very second when the band came on stage. Nothing. I had a smile on my face like any normal fan would. I wasn't sure how I was supposed to react. Suddenly it felt like I had something to prove. Like my 6 inch heels that I wore to the concert (I didn't want to be disadvantaged for the view cuz I'm short) or my knocked out spectacles or my high temperature or my spending thousands and thousands of rupees to get to Malaysia had to culminate in some proof of accomplishment, a miracle, a gift from God for which I'll always be thankful.
Instead, I sang to every song. Every word, while being pushed around to the point of having bruises on my body till a week later. The smile never left my face as I watched Mike looking all nerdy with his periodic table T-shirt, playing the most badass guitars, or Jose with his naughty childlike little-drummer-boy vibe, Chris K coyly dishing out the most ridiculous samples, Ben supporting Brandon with a mean bass and backup vocals AND Brandon, looking like a picture of serenity, with the genuinity of child and the words of a mad-wise man. And when the entire hall was reverberating with about 10,000 people singing Drive altogether, I was floating in a reverie, the only reason why I even believed it was reality was because I video recorded it.
They were not somebody I flew down and paid to watch. They were my family. In my mind, I had talked to them, laughed with them, hugged them a million times, cried with them, wished them well in their personal lives and thanked them for existing. You never even realize how much time you've invested into people who don't even know you. But they do know you. When they look into the crowd, and you think they're looking straight at you, you know they know you. Am I making any sense?
I'm their great fan. I'm one of their many great fans. There's nothing more beautiful than admiring someone to the point of obsession, as creepy as that may sound, than maybe getting together with people who share your obsession. We, on the innumerable Facebook groups, talk of Incubus as they were our best backstreet friends. Music seems coincidental. But music is the way we communicate. What would we be without music, obsessions and obsessions with music?
I'll never feel the way about Norah like my friend does. Hell, I'm not even sure if she feels about Norah the way I feel about Incubus. Because our love is so inexplicable, moreso private. So, I'm not sure I want to know. How the hell does it matter? I'll never understand it anyway.
