A MEMORY

I think of often happened at a concert in 2013. It was a November night at the Philips Arena in Atlanta, Georgia. Drake was in town on the Nothing Was The Same Tour. Miguel and Jhené Aiko were the openers. Where I sat, high in the nosebleeds, I could see a woman a few rows below me with crutches. She sat through both performances like a statue. Not a lyric sung or a muscle stirred. 

When Drake walked out, she rose from her chair how a flame would rise out a lighter. First with the crutches, then without. Down the aisle she hopped, arms flailing, lips moving, reciting words that mixed with 21,000 others. All due to the man who stood on stage, at the center, like a pastor in his megachurch. The image of her, athletic and animated, stuck with me after the show ended. She became a metaphor for rap stars and how their presence can motivate the motionless. 

In light of DMX’s tragic passing on Friday, April 9th, videos of Yonker rap legend have been circulating social media. The ones where he’s performing are all electrifying. No one is still if he’s on the mic. I know it goes viral every year, and yet, the clip of X at Woodstock '99 will always be stunning. Look at how he commands the stage, just him and a DJ. It speaks to the power his voice carried. Able to activate what looks to be a million people. If asked to provide an example of world domination, I would point to him, a ruler in red overalls. 

When our lives were put at a standstill during the first month of lockdowns last year, not having concerts felt strange. Even as restrictions were lifted, no touring left a void in people like me who made second homes out of venues where artists perform. These weren’t places of worship, but those rooms start to feel scared when you’re there every week. They become a space for communion. 

Digital media has done their best to make virtual performances a momentary alternative, but the tangible experiences are missing. A stream doesn’t have the wall-shaking yells you’d hear when a headliner takes that first step from behind the backstage curtain. They can’t provide the energy you feel in full rooms as a DJ plays the perfect songs that soundtrack your lives. I even miss how the night air felt after hearing great music in sweaty venues with no ventilation. 

These are tiny nuances that might seem insignificant, but enough time away from live music, and you notice all the little joys life is lacking without stages, fields, performers, and people singing all around you. 

EarthGang’s Rap Portrait follows the Atlanta duo on a day where they record a virtual performance. You see first-hand how it looks when the audience is replaced by a camera. Olu and Wowgr8 are seasoned performers. Their buzz was built in front of live crowds. The first time I saw them was in 2011, at a showcase called Indie Fest. This was ten years ago, but I remember why they stood out: Charisma. The people in that room couldn’t take their eyes off them. EG used the stage to show their starpower before any label, manager, or booking agent got involved. The best artists often do. 

This may sound old fashioned, but views only tally how many people watched, in person is where you see how many people are moved. Send me the artist you hope to be moved by when concerts are back, I would love to know. 

-Yoh