Here I am, on my first assignment for Music Creates Us. It’s an exciting time, as this will be your first impression of me, and I very much hope it’s a good one. It’s also nerve wracking, as I’ll be writing about myself. Perhaps you’re not a writer, so you don’t understand how difficult this can be. But please trust my word when I say writing about yourself is about as easy as convincing a cat that they are not, in fact, the ruler of the household.
The story of how I fell in love with the music industry can be summed up in three bullet points:
a pop rock king
good timing
and pure, unbridled passion
This wouldn’t make for much of an article though, so I’ll dive into the whole tale.
Sometime in May 2011, I was sitting in the backseat of my mom’s new mini van, the kind with a radio that displays song titles. As we descended the hill past my house, the track playing caught my attention. What was this glorious noise and why didn’t I know it better? A quick look ahead proved it to be The Ready Set’s “Young Forever.” Right after, I bought the single, and the solo act’s first album…and I fell in love. A year was spent adoring every sound The Ready Set made. I watched as many online and television performances as I possibly could, and spent copious amounts of time tracking down the elusive Michigan concert my mom would actually let me attend.
In February of 2012, TRS announced a show in Lansing. I was immediately told I could not attend. But as I would later find out, this was destined. The next day I listened as the same radio host that played “Young Forever” all that time ago announced a ticket giveaway for the show. Like any teenage fangirl would do, I snagged every phone in the car and eventually got through as the contestant, to my great excitement. Then, I lost the contest. Technically. But Mr. Gravy In The Morning must have heard my abundant fifteen-year-old enthusiasm, because he bent the rules and gave me entry anyways. Now I couldn’t be denied, I’d won the freaking tickets!
Two months later, on the historic day of April 25, 2012, I found myself outside The Loft. I entered the venue before the show to figure out how to redeem my tickets, and while there, I watched crew, press, and band members roam around, completing their various tasks. In that moment, I felt at home. I’d never been in this environment before, but I knew it was where I needed to be. Back in the line, I watched endless amounts of roadies and rockstars climbing in and out of buses with clipboards and missions to complete. I was surrounded by a hundred kids who felt the way I did about this music. My heart was on fire. I was so comfortable. I was finally home. Later, as the lights went down, and screams filled the air, and I was sharing sweat with people who were just as stoked as I was while we jumped, danced, and screamed along to every lyric we knew, I was certain of it. This was my sanctuary, it was heaven on Earth. I very clearly remember lying on my bed after returning home, thinking over and over, “I will do anything to be there every night.”
A few days after the show, I founded a website, so I could dive into the industry with interviews and reviews. My press adventure saw many accomplishments, including interviewing The Ready Set himself. My restless heart wouldn’t leave my career at that, however, and in three short years I’ve played the role of band manager, social media intern, writer, radio programming assistant, and plenty more (most of which I still uphold).
To close, I’d like to share a bit of wisdom I’d heard, and then learned first hand. The music industry is a unique beast, and not one for the faint of heart. If you’re not really in it, if you could imagine yourself doing anything else, you probably should. But if this insane, amazing, unpredictable, beautiful world has snatched you up and absorbed every ounce of who you are like it has me, there’s nothing you can do to get away. It is yours, and you are its. Accept it. Embrace it. Welcome to the madness.
Filed under: Your Stories Tagged: concert, music industry, the ready set, young forever, your stories
