Being Born

My sister barely knew who Latyrx was, except for the fact that they had a song about a "lady that hates techno music," and that it was annoying whenever I tried singing it. So, I decided to let her in on what the horrible crowing about soft thighs and not liking violence was all about.

We had arrived at the Transmission Theatre pretty early because I was concerned with parking Josie somewhere close. It wasn't hard finding the doors. A single rusted door actually, leading to a fluorescent-lighted brick corridor. "Oh yeah, this is independent" I whispered to myself.

Moments later, Lateef stepped out and greeted us. I held myself together and stopped myself from being terribly nervous, which wasn't really hard because I met him before. And so there I was, trying to act all cool in front of my little sister. With an oh-so-slick move, I slipped the Truth Speaker some skrill for a couple of tickets.

"So, you only want one then?" he asks with a perplexed look.

Aww shit. I blew it. I can't even calculate what two times $14 is in front of an independent artist. This is almost as embarrassing as dropping my wallet and screaming in front of Jay-Z. But I manage to stay calm, and play it off.

"Oh that was a twenty?"

With a smirk, he hands me the tickets and tells us it's an 18+ show. My sister is only 16. So after we got the tickets we started shooting it with Lateef, got a picture of my sister and him, and starting walking back to Josie because it was about an hour before the doors opened. An hour later than what it said on the flyer. "Independent" I sigh.

"So, who did I just take a picture with?"

We started thinking of ways to get my sister in while we waited. It was kind of pathetic, really. She tried wearing my glasses to make her look older, but then we thought that two people squinting while walking around with crouched backs, and groping things as if they were blind, looked a little conspicuous. We just decided to take the risk and hope that they didn't card.

"Doors open yet?" I ask an hour later.

We get in and it's deserted. I begin to think that nobody is going to show up, which isn't really a bad thing. I buy my sister a Latyrx hoodie and we chill upstairs listening to the Lifesavas practice.

About another hour later, the show starts. Lifesavas rock that shit. During the intermission, I get a couple email addresses from some girls, and my sister gives me a bored stare. It's not like I asked them or anything. I can't help it that I'm irresistible, right?

Okay, so what they really wanted was the pictures I was taking.

"Y'all know what the fuck Latyrx is?" D-Sharp grabbed the mic, "Y'all don't know shit... What? Make some noise!"

Lyrics Born and Lateef come rushing out and everyone gets wild. It's an amazing sight. The room gets smaller, the bodies get warmer and sticker, the air, hotter, the feeling. Oh man, the feeling.

"I didn't want to do this show... Transmission fuckin' Theatre... but I changed my mind..." LB shouts.

He uses the same routine every time, and nobody really cares. It's poppin' like a mofo in there.

It show ends 90 minutes later, but the fans don't wave back. It gets hotter. Louder. Smaller and bigger. We're treated with two encores.

The night was awesome.

During the second encore I managed to meet Chief Xcel, Automator, and Vursatyl. After I took pictures with them, we just stood there, nodding our heads to "Regions". And I remember now, how cool it was to just be there, listening to good music with the people that make it.

I stopped listening, just hearing. I thought about the guy next to me, Xcel. I pictured him in a basement full or records, working with a 1200 and a drum machine. That feeling got stronger. I pictured Automator on the piano, going over a song with Del and laughing. For a moment I started listening again, looked at Latyrx, and stopped again. I imagined how it would feel to be up there. Making the room get smaller, the bodies bigger, and the air hotter. Moving people. Doing what you love doing. Sharing worlds. Being free.

I remember feeling the need to feel that feeling. It was like a warm orange goo oozing from my head down to my chest, lingering there for a bit, changing colors from red to yellow to green, and by the time it reached my feet, it was a cool dark purple.

Then all of it sunk deep inside me.

The goo. The show. The people around me. Everything. I remember feeling this way when I saw Jonathan Larson's lessons of time and life in RENT, or Saul Williams lessons in time and life; Two Tongues, Miss Saigon, Latyrx, Lovage, Chick Corea, and Poncho Sanchez; What I Live For, Honey Bucket. It doesn't matter which one--I get this natural high.

And now I'm addicted.

I want to make like a drug dealer and infect stupid people with art. Any kind of people, actually. I want them as addicted as me. I want them to laugh, cry, look constipated/concentrated like me. I want them to be freed. I want to take my body and shake it violently, and splatter the polychrome ooze deep inside me, all over. On the cold grey slabs of concrete, the black suits, the petty frowns, the pale sky and cold winds. I want everyone's color television set recolored and never used again.

I want you to be born again, covered in my multi-colored slime, crying because of fear and shock. Then growing, then learning, then wanting, but not fearing the unknown. I want a red, yellow, green, blue, purple you. And I want you to paint your world with a different spectrum.

"That show was soooo cool. I'm gonna tell all my friends tomorrow... Thanks Go-Go."

previous entry - next please