Last night I attended a Munford and Sons concert with my wife. The tickets were a Christmas/Birthday gift that I had anticipated enjoying for almost three months. The concert far exceeded my expectations, and that is saying a lot. At today’s ticket prices, I set the bar very high. However, the point of this post is not a concert review, so I’ll get to the point.
I cried. A lot. Pretty much from the moment they entered the arena to the crashing crescendo of applause until the final exit. Not an all-out bawling. Just a steady welling of tears and overflowing down my cheeks.
There are a number of reasons for this. One of which relates to the aforementioned applause. But that is an explanation for another post on another day. I promise to get back to it soon.
In a collective sense, the tears were generated by the reality and presence of music. Music has always played an important part in my life. It was prominent in my childhood as my mom taught myself and all my siblings piano. We were each expected to try another instrument as well, and I choose the trumpet. I was moderately successful through high school and into college (and greatly enjoyed the horns incorporated into Munford’s music!).
The tradition continues to build today as my son just completed his Master’s recital in classical guitar, one daughter just performed on the flute in a high school All-District Honor Band and the youngest continues to develop as a percussionist. So music stirs my emotions. It has a past and present in my life. It is an active piece of my life.
Then there are the lyrics. I know they are purposefully written to strike a personal note with us. But for me, Munford’s do on a very deep, emotional level. More so than ever would Kanye or Two Chains.
“I really fucked it up this time.” (Little Lion Man)
“I will wait, I will wait for you.” (I Will Wait)
“Cause even when there is no star in sight, you’ll always be my only guiding light.” (Guiding Light)
“This is never going to go our way, if I’m gonna have to guess what’s on your mind.” (Believe)
“I will hold on hope, and I won’t let you choke on that noose around your neck.” (The Cave)
These tie to my story. My personal story. Maybe in a way that is emotionally overstretched, but it is what it is. And that stirs a passion. A feeling. Something that expresses itself through tears.
Because crying is feeling. And I haven’t felt much in recent years. Everything has been so drugged and numbed. It has been so difficult to be stirred. Moved. To feel.
But last night everything was so alive. I cried a lot because I felt a lot. And feeling is life. And last night I loved being alive.