Boston had just started to show the first snaps of cold which made the question of wearing a sweatshirt to a show that much harder. Were you supposed to bear the hints of winter popping up in the autumn days with hunched shoulders and crossed arms? Or, did you prepare for the cold but feel hot and constricted as the dancing began? In the case of Toro y Moi, there was only one right answer. You stood there in the cold shivering as you tried to figure out the right door to enter from, and you sucked it up, knowing the movements held indoors would provide all the warmth a spirit could need.
Even the opener, Channel Tres, warmed the crowd up to a comfortable heat. He ruled the stage with a presence near intimidating with how calm it was and directed the energy towards his two back up dancers with tight choreography that hyped the crowd up at intervals. The three of them moved with a near contradictory amount of clear practice and casual personas. There was no way to be uninfluenced by the charismatic trio who set clear expectations for how much they expected the crowd to respond and move along with them. Rather than feeling enforcing, it felt like a friend who knew the best potential you could reach.
By the time Toro y Moi graced the stage, the crowd was amply ready for him. Everyone was smushed together across the large entirety of the House of Blue’s standing room. People eagerly chatted with the people whose elbows they were pressed into, couples stayed close and happy as they waited for the music to start anew.
The show took on a new light as Toro y Moi began his music. The stage was graced with extraordinary lights, bathing the crowd in a soft glow that changed frequently as hues changed from pinks to greens to yelling oranges. The colors danced with the crowd, the heat rose, and everything felt, for a second transcendent as the happiness of just moving and seeing simply graced the crowd.
The friend I was with told me that the moment felt like the start of a new chapter, and truly, it did. Inside, it felt like winter had been skipped, and we were all, quite suddenly, in spring.
After the concert, we skipped the coat check, never losing the sentiment of warmth and color that Toro y Moi had brought us. The night might have been cold, but now, I’m not even sure if I felt it. There was too much to feel, too much sensation to leave the night with anything but the memory of a world cast in color and the closeness of everyone feeling, just for the length of those songs, the same thing.