trueatfirstlight

Two blog posts today, one to bring you up to date on my life and another to gush about possibly the best night of my life.  On Friday the 22nd of Novemeber, I came face to face with one of my music  idols The Weeknd. I

The thing about the Weeknd that I feel with such passion is the poetry behind his lyrics. Some would say they're crude, explicit - disgusting even in some cases, but that is exactly what I love about them. The subjects revolve mainly around sex, drug culture, revenge, jealousy and what fame means.

There is something beautiful about the raw honesty behind  the words . A modern musical Bukowski echoes from my earphones and whispers catchy bridges in my ears.

I hate busy public spaces. Railway stations, airports, shopping centres, just get me out of there. With gigs and concerts, it's a whole new story. There's a sea of irritating people all clamouring to get to the front, standing on your feet, the air smells a bit pungent, a mixture of sweaty, cannabis and fake tan, but  I don't care. Amongst the flashing lights and heavy atmosphere, there's a sense of allegiance, brothership, a sisterhood of fans gathered to appreciate music together.

If magic exists, it can be found at a concert. Face to face with your idols is scary,  there's a heightened sensitivity to the expectations in your head. My experience was nothing short of  euphoria.

Legs are aching, lungs and throat are sore from screaming, arms feel heavy and your ears are ringing - but nothing can stop you from screaming the artists name a little louder, chanting the lyrics like an anthem and feeling the bass shake your feet.