My Afterglow Moment: The World Is In Your Palm Now
My Afterglow Moment is a series where staff writers and editors share their favorite music-related memories.
Written by Zoe Judilla
Like many a music lover residing in Austin, the local concert scene has been a love of mine for quite some time. The songs come and go, the bands come and go, the barriers get cold as the masses usher themselves out. I add another wristband to the box, a setlist to the wall — I take the routine in stride. While each of these memories remains uniquely distinct in its own right, there’s one I can’t shake to this day. It wasn’t necessarily the specific band or the show that moved me — my taste in music has evolved into something else entirely since then. In time, I realized that I pinpoint this moment for one particular reason: it showcased the power of music as a spontaneous savior.
During the spring of 2015, I was in the darkest place I had ever been in my entire life. My friends convinced me to attend South by Southwest for the first time — they knew it would be a better alternative to sitting around in my thoughts for the whole break. I was thrown into complete madness downtown, scrambling towards the loudest concert or the coolest concept art formed to inspire passersby and other creators. Music boomed in the colorful streets of Austin; the city thrived at its prime.
My life changed on the last day of the festival. After running around in search of new artists and making a few brief stops at Book People, Waterloo Records, and IHOP to take shelter from a forming thunderstorm, it was finally time to attend the very last show. A man handing out his mixtape stood firmly put near the sidewalk of a Whole Foods, shoving CDs entitled DJ HARD HITTA towards the public. We took a copy of his work and walked outside to a seemingly clear front in order to catch the final band of the night: Smallpools. But water droplets began to fall halfway through the trek and my umbrella wouldn’t budge.
Soon enough, the drizzle became a storm, and we ran without any form of relief. We skid past Sixth Street, stepped on growing puddles, and skipped over a trail of fallen gummy bears towards the venue. Rain-dampened posters showcasing the IFC Fairgrounds, our destination, along with mixtapes for obscure artists, strayed on the ground, and the neon lights in shops came on as night approached. But we found ourselves smiling and laughing — we were satisfied in our drenched chaos.
When we reached the venue, Smallpools came on stage. We somehow surfed to the barrier amid the stacked, yet shifting bodies as the rain continued to pour. The stage lights, colored in purples and golds and blues, flashed across the night sky as they began to sing their most popular song, “Dreaming.” I felt the music surge, the crowd’s energy unreal, while the lead singer called out, “The world is in your palm now / so take a breath and calm down / ‘cause you have been selected.” I swear, in that moment, something sparked within me.
The air seemed to glitter — the words the crowd sang back to the band formed in the air. We were hazardously soaked, we were singing, we were dancing, we were laughing — we were there. I was so overwhelmed, I began to cry and couldn’t stop. I raised my hands, completely aware of every feeling rushing through me, and focused on grasping the idea of living — really living — and realizing how truly beautiful it could be. Standing there, I could feel myself raging into a bright, intense inferno. I was present. I was young. I was invincible.
That intense night remains a defining memory in my life. The alignment of my surroundings with the song gave me an unprecedented hope for my future, reminding me about the things I lived for: moments of passion, discovery and an unrelenting search for what happiness is or could be. In these small scenes, I could figure it all out.
To this day, I have no doubt that that concert saved my life.