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There comes a certain time in a person’s life in which being a fan just doesn’t sound so cool anymore. What, you’re in your twenties and still living your life for an artist that only cares about your wallet? Sounds pointless, doesn’t it? And I’m afraid that time has come for me too. I can no longer identify myself to others based on my favorite artists.
I’m an adult now, so I should act like one and obsessing over artists just isn’t an adult-ish thing to do simply because I should know better.
Well, meeting The Maine at this exact time in my life has shown me that I don’t. I can keep caring, but only because they care just as much.
Yes, I was an emo teen. Actually, my emo days started when I was only nine. So, truly, I was an emo child. Growing up in Brazil wasn’t always that easy for emo teens like me. Bands weren’t around that much and, when they were, they were limited to two, three cities. And, guess what? I was nowhere near those. My option then was just watching my (online) friends have all the fun and hope for my day to eventually come. Well, it never really did and I eventually grew out of it. At least I thought I did.
I now live in New York City, a must-stop for any band’s tour, so basically I am now living the good life. Just yesterday, I had the opportunity to spend the entire day with one of my teen years favorite, The Maine. My first stop was at the BUILD Studio at 11 a.m. for their live interview with the BUILD Series. It was incredible seeing them talking about their music and being completely overwhelmed with emotions. I really did feel like I was thirteen again. After the thirty-minute interview, we waited outside and that was when it all began to hit me.
As soon as they stepped out, all five of them took their time to talk to each and every fan that had waited. I was completely… starstruck? I don’t think that is the word. If there is a complete opposite to it, then that’s what I was feeling, but in a good way. They were right there, I was talking to them. They were asking me about my day. They were inviting me to their after party. They were being yelled at to move to their next interview, but they weren’t moving at all because they were talking to me and everyone else that was there.
During their interview, they talked about their free tour and I, being skeptical like I am, just always saw it as a marketing play. I mean, living in this capitalist garbage we live in, can you blame me? But those moments in which I was just talking to them made me realize something that I found to be revolutionary: they care, they really, truly, honestly, deeply care.
The Maine has been known for meeting fans anywhere, at any time, and for free.
So, if they care, then why shouldn’t I? There’s something I am not sharing and for this article to reach its concluding points, I need to be entirely honest. Kennedy Brock is the love of my life. He has been since day one and just yesterday I discovered that he’ll always be. I realized that while I was talking to them, I completely forgot to ask for pictures because at the moment that didn’t matter. I knew I had their attention for longer than I could ever imagine I would have, pictures seemed so pointless. But here’s the deal. Kennedy’s not only the love of my life, he’s also the love of my best friend’s life. So I had to do it, I asked for a picture so that she could have a picture of the two loves of her life all in one.
But, why does this matter? Because he cared about that. The moment he walked on stage, saw me crying my eyes out staring directly at him, he looked back at me with a smile and a nod as if to say, “Hi, again!” And he did that over, and over, and over again. And so did all of them. I was one of the lucky few that could ignore that was a weekday and could go to the after party. And, guess what? He did it again, this time with words. And, guess what one more time? So did all of them. They cared to give me that little attention because they knew I cared and that was when I knew that their words and intentions were the purest and rarest, especially working in an industry that is directly fueled by my money. I had already paid to be there, they didn’t need to care, but they did.
As I was walking out, ready to leave, Pat and Jared walked right behind. Pat was the first one to see me, stopped walking, and waved at me with a “Bye, love.” Jared, on the phone, noticing what Pat had just done, walked back just to give me a nod and a smile. I could be making all of this up, but ask anyone that was there, ask anyone that has ever met The Maine. They are the type to do all of that. They are the type to care. So, am I, an adult, going to give up on my fanaticism? No, I won’t, I don’t have to because The Maine has shown me that some artists do care just as much, and I am forever grateful for that. Keep on loving, keep on supporting, and keep on being a fan, it all might just turn out to be worth it.
On that note, I couldn’t possibly write all this and not promote their music, you know, the thing they actually do for a living. So check this out, from a band that cares:
“You are beautiful because your eyes are different sizes and your lisp gets in between your tongue and teeth every time you try to say “something”. You are beautiful because the scar under your chin looks like a spider and because you have a massive fear of heights. You are beautiful because there never has been, nor will there ever be anyone else on this Earth like you. Because your flaws are like fingerprints and should be embraced just like the free will that resides inside. You are not beautiful because of the symmetry in the little squares on your telephone, you are beautiful because “you” are the only “you” this place will ever know.” – John C. O’Callaghan V.
