Russ and I went to a local show the other night, and it reminded me just how much I love music. The bass pulsates in your chest and the drum beats out a melody so intoxicating you can't help but move in some way...
I love it.
What I love most is the connection. So many people, so many different backgrounds and beliefs. There's the sixty-year-old in a tie dye shirt, jean cut-off shorts, and a bandana around his gray hair singing his heart out in the corner. There are the two ladies up front - swinging their hips and attempting to get others around them just as excited as they are. Then there's the wedding party. Friends torn apart by distance and time brought together for one weekend, and man are they enjoying the show. There's the mom and her two boys, and there's the three teenagers up front stealing shots on their camera phones and dancing to their hearts' content - not even caring that those behind them could be making fun.
I know these people. I know them because of their actions; I know them because of what they drink; I know them because of how they dance. I know them because in the close quarters of a local joint, their conversations become my conversations. Their stories my stories.
It's incredible to me.
Two weeks ago we had a benefit concert for Invisible Children. Russ and I were chilling at the IC merch table when this guy approached asking about writing a letter. We couldn't find a pen (like every other pen that wanders off...) but he said it wasn't too big of a deal and he'd come back after his band played. His band, The Thirty, had been a last minute replacement after one of the others bailed on us.
We got lucky.
Their music was passion driven; their heart visible through lyrics and attitude. I loved it. Russ loved it. Other students who are self-proclaimed musical purists (whatever that means) loved it. Basically, this band brought the people together in a way that no other band had been able to that night. I smiled. This was what music was about.
When their set was finished, David was faithful to come over and write some letters, as promised. Grabbing several sheets of paper, he glanced over at our table and said, "So...is there any one here who can tell me the whole background to this thing?"
It was all we needed. Within seconds, he was surrounded by Sarah, Susan, Claire and Kimber - telling him the story of IC and what this whole movement was about. Slowly, I started getting letters from him handed to me by the girls.
"This isn't fair."
"Children shouldn't be soldiers."
"Stop the war."
All very well-meaning and straight from the heart. Slowly, however, these letters became more desperate. Before my eyes, I was seeing a transformation as someone else heard about the atrocities in n. Uganda to the tunes of Cute as a Button. It was...epic.
Now, this band is on tour across the MidWest and places the Africa hat they bought from us on their merch table at every show. Joining the movement and spreading the story. Word.
Then...Rosalyn. We screened the movie in between Everthorn's and Cobra Legion's sets, and we weren't sure how many people would stay to watch. However, once again, the pull of music overpowered peer pressure. In between singing and rocking out and breaking up a fight from the stage, the lead singer of Everthorn pleaded with the kids to stay and watch the video...and they did.
As the video played, and as the tears fell and as the laughter rippled through the room, I took a deep breath and smiled.
Looking across the crowd, the differing backgrounds and the moment of simultaneous clarity despite relationships, was almost overwhelming.
THIS is why I love music, I thought. THIS is why I love IC.
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