We Belong Together
A decade of “going for myself” became a summer of “going with each other.”
A decade of “going for myself” became a summer of “going with each other.”
Never miss a show. That was my goal during the latter half of my freshman year of college after I couldn’t find a friend to join me for a Broken Social Scene concert. I told myself they’ll tour again, but in the back of my mind, I also thought, “What if?” As it turned out, outside of an expensive festival experience, the group would not return to the city for another five years. Heartbroken would be an understatement to describe my feelings. But in the years between, I vowed to never make that mistake again. Every week, I used what little work-study money I had left over to buy tickets for a show or two. Eventually, my love of music far surpassed my budget, and I began creating pros and cons lists for upcoming shows. But most of those shows I attended alone. I got into the habit of not waiting to find the right companion before I hit “Purchase.” Seeing the performer—experiencing their art—was more valuable than making sure I wasn’t alone. And during that time, I developed routines to feel comfortable going to shows alone. I most often hovered near the left-front speaker or in the balcony if there was seating. I skipped the opener unless they were also someone I really loved. Occasionally, I called the venue ahead of time to learn when the headliner would hit the stage, faking an excuse as to why I needed that information.
Heartbroken would be an understatement to describe my feelings.
My love of music turned into a few music magazine internships, where my joy turned into feature stories and review assignments. And while my friends certainly joined me for shows where they also knew and loved the acts, purchasing tickets together was never really my priority. Things changed, however, this year. After a few fits and starts during the previous two years of the pandemic, I fully jumped back into the live music scene. But the terror of the pandemic—the confusion, the loneliness, the isolation—made me yearn for more live-music experiences with people I know and love. And so I began initiating these conversations and planning these journeys. A decade of “going by myself” became a summer of “going with each other.” There was Janet Jackson and Beyonce with my sister, Lauryn Hill with two of my best friends and even the Isley Brothers with my parents. Slowly, but surely, the live music experience was no longer just my own, but something I could do with others once again. And at these shows, we could dance and laugh and sing to the music. We could take pictures and plan outfits. We could make the music more than just a show and turn it into something for ourselves, something connecting, something deeper than just a song and dance. Little has changed now that we’ve entered fall. October will be as busy as ever. I’ve got group plans to make and shows to see.