Like most people my age, I really like music.
I listen to it constantly and attend concerts whenever I can.
Every time I’m running or working on schoolwork — or even when I’m doing nothing — music is the background noise to my life. When an artist who I love drops a project, I'll sit in attentive reverence while the music plays through my headphones. I recently attended an amazing concert in Greensboro for Mick Jenkins. He was spectacular and wonderful, yet intimate and dynamic.
But it, unusually, was one of the many (many) opener acts this concert had who really stuck with me. At every concert I’ve ever been to, openers almost always suck — they can’t sing or rap, or they just aren’t good performers. The awkward silence that follows most opening acts when they try to get the crowd riled up is crushing to me, even though I participate more than willingly. However, this particular night after a string of lackluster and boring openers, a rapper named Black Linen took the stage and killed it.
None of my friends know Black Linen. And despite being impressed with him, I haven’t breathed a word of him to my friends either. When I got on my phone to listen to music the day after, I decided to look for something new. Rather than look up Black Linen, I thought of a famous artist I hadn’t tried yet. I tapped on their profile, choose a song, and realized I didn’t like it. But even though I didn’t like it, I didn't change the song. I figure if I listened to it enough I’d get to like it.