Whirlwind

25

[Riley]

Twenty thousand seats in total and this man wanted someone to occupy every single one. The idea seemed almost impractical this day and age; when most people would reject the concept of live performances, and if they did consider it I doubted they would sit and listen to an artist perform an entire album. This era of listeners only wanted to hear the hits that were played on their favorite radio stations, and their favorite artist was bound to give them just that. It was the way to succeed these days, make a record that would shoot up the charts and ride on that wave of fame until it died out and the next hit was needed. Who could blame them for wanting that easy money and success?

Lamarr was determined to be the deviant though. He was going to drop an album with no promotion or a single, then go on tour one day and perform songs that might not ever touch the media currents. Lamarr was determined to adjust the way we listened to and appreciated the music, and how we drove the culture. He was determined to shift the culture. The kind of faith he had in himself and his art was bold, and leaves all of us witnessing him speak his future and impact into existence with no choice but to support it. We all secretly prayed that everything would pan out as imagined, even if sometimes it didn't seem feasible to us. Maybe, just maybe, Lamarr would prove all of our spoken and hidden fears to be pointless and make us all believe; believe in something that was in fact tangible.

"You really think you're going to do it?" I had never witnessed his face in such a twisted manner, one that outlined just how absurd he found my question to be. But just as his eyes left mine to size up the billboard of tonight's act and blazed with the image of his face and name being illuminated on the marquee one day, a spec of doubt settled onto his face.

"I don't know," The mumbled statement was followed by him rubbing the length of his arm, a nervous gesture of his I hadn't seen for years now and kind of missed. "I'm having doubts just like you all are.

"Who said we doubted you?" It felt like he was reading my current mind of endless anxieties and I felt bad for even being human in this moment. Human enough to worry that this album might not work out in his favor.

"No one has to say it for me to know it, Riley." he chuckled dismissively, keeping his eyes pinned to a possibility. "I can just feel it the closer we get to the label's due date. I can hear it in the tones of the execs when they ask me how everything is going. I see it with my own damn eyes when I look at the state of hip hop. The industry is a system. The way the music is chosen and marketed, where it's played and where it's not. That's where all of our doubts really surface. We've gotten so used to the weak and fake shit that we fear the real."

"What are some of your other fears? You speak of your music and the contributions you'd love to give to the genre so much, that it makes me think you're this invincible man outside of that. What are some of your fears in life period?"

"Is this going in your article with the stuff you asked me earlier?"

"Do you want it to?" Lamarr finally looked away from the rotunda known as Madison Square Garden then nodded toward the stairs where Mike and Damon sat, and where Ib stood at the top taking pictures of his beloved city.

"On the record," he replied, sounding sure of his answer. "You're probably the only person I'll ever completely trust in an interview so I might as well bare it all, right?" Lamarr's hand clasped my own once we both made it a few feet away from the guys, and it's gentle yet stiff grip never let up as I sat down on the step beneath us.

"Thank you," I murmured as he joined beside me. My antique tape recorder that I forced into the pocket of his hoodie earlier, rested in his hand now as he stared ahead and surveyed the pedestrians racing down Pennsylvania Plaza.