It’s like you’re there in the crowd, the lights will go down, and all the bickering and side talk goes to a complete silence, as if we are in the presence of something magical. The second even the slightest guitar chord is strummed, screams begin to bellow out. Hundreds, maybe even thousands of kids will push to get to the front; with the space between each person being less than a millimeter.
Midway through the first song you can feel your temperature begin to rise, partly because of the excitement but mainly due to the intense amount of movement you are involved in. The taste of sweat and desperation is in the air as you take in what’s going on around you. To some people it may just be a good beat, bass booming through your chest like your heart is going to explode, but it’s honestly my favorite feeling in the world. Sure you have to fend for your life in there like you would on a battlefield, being aware of your surroundings and always watching overhead for that elusive crowd surfer. And in the end you’ll come out tattered and beaten, with bruises and sore muscles, covered in a mixture of perspiration that may not be only from your body.
But every second of that is worth what you come out with. Taking in that music is like medicine for the soul, it heals you even when you don’t realize you need healing. Yet, when the final note is sung and those four guys disappear, I feel the withdrawal that I know I’ll endure until the next time I am in this exact position. Because despite the bruises and the aches, the lack of sleep and the ringing in my ears- seeing them has given me some of the best memories of my life, and I would not have it any other way.