Earlier this year, I randomly found a new song while on my daily walk.
It was upbeat and soulful, yet at the same time so sad.
I put it on repeat for the rest of my 60-minute trek.
Probably looking ridiculous to the passersby, I found myself dancing and drumming on my chest each time it played.
Raising my arms to the sky screaming the chorus!
It was that good.
The song was called "Heartless," and it was on the new album by Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats.
Immediately when I got home I found the album and played it.
I played it almost every day that month.
There was something about this mix of Americana, rock, soul, and gospel that connected with me deeply.
It was embedded in every song, whether a fast-paced roof-shaker, or a solemn slow-moving ballad.
The lyrics all centered around pain, mistakes made, and heartache, and how to navigate them as time slips by.
In "Heartless," he writes: "I was so cold leaving the comfort of my Missouri home, and my childhood left me so broken, that I didn't know."
As a child of an alcoholic who grew up in a home riddled with abuse, this line in particular tore me up — and still does.
The way he has those hard conversations over chords and melodies that make you move your body has had me entranced since June.
So when I saw that he and The Night Sweats were coming to Coastal Credit Union Music Park (it'll always be Walnut Creek Amphitheater to me) to promote their new album, South of Here, I jumped at the opportunity to see them live.
I'd heard it was a hell of a show.
Coincidentally, this show would be on the weekend that immediately preceded my wife's and my anniversary.
She had enjoyed the album over the summer, too, when I played it at the beach.
But she hadn't quite nerded out on it like I did for months (nor perhaps been so emotionally affected by its songs as I had).
And while I normally wouldn't invite her to a show she wasn't already excited about, I told her that it meant a lot to me and she agreed.
Boy, I sure am glad I did.
Nathaniel and The Night Sweats damn near took us, and the whole crowd among us, back to church.
The horns blared, the guitars wailed, and the drums smashed and crashed.
The people danced and sang along and the energy was palpable.
And it was all extremely emotional for me.
I'm no stranger to pain. I'm no stranger to darkness.
This whole set made me think about all the turns that my life has taken. All the missteps I'd made and all the people I'd lost along the way.
I already knew a good amount of the songs.
But my favorite experiences of the night were the songs I'd never heard before.
And one in particular took my breath away.
Nathaniel stripped away almost all of that large backing band behind him and kept only a keyboardist and guitar player for this one.
From the first note, I knew I wouldn't be pulling out my phone to record this one.
It was just for me.
A strumming slide guitar played softly with a country-folk vibe.
The harmonies joined quickly, with whom Nathaniel claimed was his "favorite person to sing with." I could tell why.
I stood away from my wife.
I had some pain to get through.
I felt every piece of that music, but I didn't make a sound. Instead, the notes came streaming down my face in quiet running tears.
I dared not wipe them away. I just let em ride.
It was catharsis.
I needed it.
And even though in that moment, when I felt like they were playing just for me, I know know that's not true at all.
One look at any video of his on YouTube channel will show that I'm not alone.
The comments are full of shared stories of pain.
Check it out below to see for yourself.
"Sometimes every once in a while a song just smacks me in my face , speaks to me , makes me happy and sad all at the same time."
- some Youtuber commenter
After this show, I realized how much I missed — or needed is perhaps the more appropriate word — live music in my life.
I told my wife Maya I felt euphoric as we scarfed down mini donuts at a picnic table post-show. I was not being hyperbolic.
My body was tingling.
It was an emotional release that had been craving from the pent-up pain leftover from my father's death in 2007... and my brother's in 2021.
Hell, it was a release I had been craving from just the day-to-day of being a parent, and running a business, and trying every day to be a good man.
And because of that night, I feel better now.
Besides missing live shows, I also missed writing to you like this.
Back in 2022, I finished my column at Chapelboro.com, after four years of sharing the lessons I've learned the hard way in life.
Even though the four years since then has brought some of my darkest days, I still move forward. Like Nathaniel Rateliff, trying to find myself and trying each day I can to be a good man.
Life is still brutal.
But it's also beautiful.
And it's still alright.
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