āI think this is the most Chinese people weāve seen in the last weekā, Max said, looking around at all the East Asian faces around us. Itās a dark room and weāre about to listen to some loud, rhythmically difficult, mini-band music (Chinese Football) in a tiny indie rock Berlin venue.
The guy in front me has long hair, he looks like I did back in College, except maybe 2 inches taller. He pulls his friend over next to him. Theyāre both wearing backpacks. Fuck dude, backpacks take up the space of like two people in a crowd. But the crowd is thin so I donāt mind.
āThis is our song about uniting two halvesā the bassist whispered into the mic, āSo I want to divide the room in half, make a space in the middle. Now when I saw āgoā I want you all to come togetherā.
The man was literally wall of deathing a math rock show. And I was all for it. Music is made for us to move our bodies to. The worst shows are those slow indie shows where everyone sways softly but the beat never gets fast enough to really move. I was smiling from ear to ear. My body felt electric. It was time to go.
āGOā
German people running. Chinese people running. Bodies colliding, arms flailing. Get pushed out, run back in, jump up, ram someone with my shoulder while flinging my arms out.
I really didnāt think we would mosh at a mini-band concert.