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Friday, November 14, 2008


Tonight I am going to a concert of a band I've seen play 27 times. I figured that I might as well make it 28. I'm not ashamed to tell you their name, I'm just worried that you will judge me for it. Ok it's hint time. You always get hints out of me. Hint #1: They are 3 brothers from Tulsa, Oklahoma who hit it big in 1997. Hint #2: The above picture. By the way, this trio definitely paved the road for the Jonas Brothers, so if you were wondering who to thank for their fame, now you know. Anyone who hasn't experienced a crazy adolescent love for a pop group cannot relate, so to those of you that missed out on this very unique childhood experience of fanatic frenzy, be jealous.

The fandom started when I was just 13 years old. This band was the wallpaper that I woke up to and the music I dreamed to and the faces that I hyperventilated to when I first saw them in real life. (It was embarrassing and scary at the time, especially when you have to be escorted out of the crowd by security, but a great learning experience in hindsight. When excited, remember to breathe.)

I've been attending their concerts with my same friend since we were 13 year olds in braces and blue eye shadow, awkwardly screaming in a high pitch that only dogs can hear. Now flash forward eleven years and we're "grown ups" making lives for ourselves. Things are so different since 13 and all the while the world has been changing and we no longer get the surreal feeling or have the need to scream ecstatically or hold up posters at their concerts. But there's still something about the experience. When tickets go on sale to their concerts, I don't even think twice about going. I have to go. It's like I owe it to my 13 year old self to go and sing along and revisit something that was once so magical to me.

They are no longer my favorite music (I started branching out around the age of 16), and they have all been married off with 2.5 children each, so they're scratched off of my post-it sized list of eligible bachelors. (By the way, those punks married FANS! I did have a chance! I knew it.) I rarely even listen to their CDs or remember their birthdays or middle names. (Ok fine, you've got me. I still have way too many useless facts on them stored away in some dark corner of my brain.) But when their song comes on when I'm in the grocery store or when I hear their music while flipping through the radio, I can't help but smile and remember what it was like to be 13 and carefree, when my biggest concern in life was how I was going to talk my mom into driving me 8 hours to their next concert in San Francisco. The feeling is still tangible somehow.

Music is an amazing and powerful and wonderful thing. It's one of the greatest gifts in the entire world. It's like a time machine of sorts. It always brings you back. The same feelings and places and memories come rushing back through you as if they hadn't ever left at all.

So tonight, I'll be rocking out and singing along to all the words of my old favorite songs and for two hours I'll be 13 again. Can I get an MMMBop? (Dang it, I gave you another hint!)