The smell of weed immediately hit me and my friends upon stepping out of the car. This was going to be a different kind of an experience. The inside of the building gave off a strong basement vibe, with muted dark colors, indie lighting and aesthetics that bring together hipsters of every variety. This was going to be a special show. There were no chairs on the floor. This was the type of concert that expected everyone in the crowd to stand by the stage, packed together in one bundle of sweat-filled heat.
Though I had my cuffed jeans and required flannel, I was instantly self-conscious. I had shown up to this thing thinking that the effort that goes in to looking hipster on Union’s campus would cut it. It didn’t. The only somewhat comforting aspect of how I looked was that my curly hair was somewhat long and messy, which blended nicely with everyone else’s long, messy and curly hair. Most people’s clothes were faded, dirty and smelly pieces of art, and I honestly loved all of it. The fans came from a different culture, one that seemed so completely foreign to anything I had ever experienced before. What everyone wore was so put together in the most un-put-together way possible (and if that makes sense to you, then you know what I’m describing).
On both sides of the room were two bar tables and an impressive array of available drinks shelved on the back wall, dimly lit in an entrancing way. Already, people were walking around the massive room with clear cups full of different colored liquids. We moved to the railing by the stage and waited for the opening act, wanting to hold our place for the concert.
When Nahko and Medicine for the People finally took stage, I felt more engaged than I had ever been at a concert. The band had such charisma, dancing around the stage while leading the crowd to dance along with them, and everyone obliged.
For most of the concert, I felt mesmerized. The only things drawing my attention away were the soaked floor that we were standing on, and the guy standing close to me, who was the embodiment of a Greek god with shoulder-length, golden curly hair. He was at least six-five, muscled like an NFL player, and dripped stoicism down every hair follicle of his remarkably beautiful stubble. Honestly, he had to be the most attractive man I’ve ever seen in my life, and anytime he looked in my general direction, I could feel my hair try to curl a little tighter out of shame for not having half of what his hair was.
After about three songs, I realized that his band wasn’t normal, and that their music was deeply personal and encouraging, constantly urging listeners to fight through pain that they might feel, to love others, to protect the environment and to find peace with God. During the band’s song, “Love Letters to God,” I felt like crying as the trumpet and violin melded together gracefully, and the singer stood as close to the crowd as he could, singing passionately.
“Love letters to God/ I wonder if she reads them or if they get lost in the stars,” the lead singer, Nahko Bear, cried. “Take my hand/ I won’t lead you astray/ We will not go gently into the darkest of days…/ And our fears, are the same as they ever were/ Beers numb the pain of our holocaust years.”
These lyrics, so raw and coated with honesty, made me grateful to be alive.
“You can fight like this/ In praise/ With the power of prayer.”
I had gone into the concert feeling frustrated after a difficult week and quickly began to feel spiritually fed by the experience and the lyrics. I felt encouraged to continue pursing authentic spirituality, something of which I needed in a time when I feel as though Christianity is fake and insincere.
I looked over at my friend Addie and saw that she was crying. She wasn’t the only one. In moments of unity, when everyone is dancing to the same music and the lyrics are heartfelt and impactful, how could you not cry?
At the concert’s end, Nahko Bear spoke about the charities that he had encouraged to come here, saying how he always wanted charities at his concerts because he believed that music should lead to actions, to change. He encouraged his listeners to donate, to participate in their own communities to help make them a better place.
There seemed like no other way that the concert should conclude than with a message of giving back. Nahko and Medicine for the People is a band that deeply cares for people and community and uses their music to help make a change.