Sunday, March 26, 2017

I don't know where the fuck I'm going


A lot of things make me a fan of love certain bands or artists.

The music, obviously. 

Friends in the band.

Having that one song that becomes the soundtrack to a specific memory. 

And then there are bands that I like but don't necessarily love. If they're playing I won't necessarily change the music, but if someone else does I won't stop them. 

Last night I went from having a platonic relationship with Flogging Molly to actually falling in love with them. And it had nothing to do with the music.

The bread lines in Russia.

I happened to take the above photo while in the company of a couple of members of FM. I turned to one and asked, does seeing that still excite you? 

He turned to look out the window and lit up like a man seeing the woman he loves for the first time in too long and said, I spent half my life working for that, of course I still get excited seeing it. 

Then he leaned in and spent the next few minutes telling me just how much that means to him. 

Hint: everything. 

And I realized this is a band that loves their fans. Cherishes them. 

Later on I realized something else. If it wasn't for FM deciding to put on a little floating musical festival every March so many of the people I have come to love would not be a part of my life. 

Last night when Flogging Molly took the stage I saw them differently. 

I had seen them before many times. I had danced and enjoyed every minute. But last night was different. 

Last night I watched a band I fucking love.