by Amanda Davis

Believe it or not, my mom took me to some of my first shows. 

Actually, if you knew me in high school, this probably wouldn’t come as a surprise to you; my mom and I were pretty close and we both loved live music. I went to a lot of shows with my friends as well, but the ones I went to with my mom are honestly some of my fondest memories. Technically, the first show I ever went to was Colbie Caillat and Natasha Bedingfield at the House of Blues in Orlando. I was eight years old and “Unwritten” was my favorite song. I had no headphones, no earplugs, nothing—I don’t know what my mom was thinking, but the hearing loss hasn’t set in yet so I guess I’m okay. 

A few years later, she took me to what I consider my first real show (by this, I mean I was old enough to really remember and appreciate it,) and I had a revelation—with the spotlight reflecting off of Chris Daughtry’s bald head, I realized that this was quite possibly the coolest thing in the world. Coming together with a room full of other people who love music and just enjoying it. Every time I hear the lyrics “I’m coming home / Back to the place where I belong” I think about that night. 

Okay, I’m not going to get emotional about Daughtry. But it is true that my mom is responsible for introducing me to rock music, back when she made me watch a documentary about Dave Navarro where he painted with his own blood. Actually, I take it back—my first foray into the rock world was through Henry Rollins’ spoken word shows, most of which my mom had on CD and would play religiously on road trips and other long car rides. This is where I learned the philosophy of punk rock—fighting Nazis and waking up every morning with your middle finger erect. (In fact, the Instagram handle I’ve had for the last eight years comes from one of his stand-up bits.) Little did I know that I would become one of those “vampire kids” he talked about listening to his music. 

My mom was nice enough to keep taking me to shows well into my emo phase, long after she’d stopped understanding the music I listened to. She drove me all the way to Jacksonville once to see Frank Iero, and went with me to a Falling in Reverse concert even though she was worried Ronnie Radke might throw another mic stand into the audience (he didn’t.) I’ve been to more shows than I can count—a lot of which I went to with my mom—but one of my favorites was in 2019. This was the last show I went to before the world shut down, and the last one we went to together. It didn’t start with pyrotechnics or a crazy guitar solo or even a blackout—it started with one guy on a synth board playing “Hot Cross Buns.” My mom leaned over to me and whispered, “Is this it? Where’s the rest of the band?” 

There was no touring band with Reggie and the Full Effect, but James Dewees certainly has the stage presence to fill a room on his own. He’s so much fun to see live—funky beats accompanied by him energetically alternating between the synth board and the microphone. He played some old favorites as well as some songs off his latest record, 41, and talked about his manager Carol from Pizza Hut, when Chris from Hot Water Music taught him how to run away from gators, and the time he accidentally stripped at House of Blues. I still think it’s one of the best shows I’ve ever been to; even my mom was jamming out to “who needs another drank.” 

I don’t really have a good way to end this without being cheesy. It’s been five years since that night, and I still think it was rad. I love Reggie and the Full Effect, of course, but even more than that, it was awesome to me that my mom enjoyed the show. She said it was cool that one guy did all the music (I was thinking, wait until someone tells her about Tame Impala.) It was a world away from Colbie Caillat and Natasha Bedingfield, but the feeling was the same—getting to experience music with someone you love. It’s an incredible feeling. And my advice for anyone would be to make as many of those memories with your friends and family as you can. Because nothing beats the feeling of hearing a song and being transported back to that time you both danced along to it in the middle of a sweaty crowd.