Dear Rocka readers,
This is a note in my phone from Carter Ace’s show at the Moroccan Lounge a few weekends ago, my final adventure in Los Angeles. For some reason, these were two details I absolutely needed to note.
Carter’s show was electric. From start to finish, he maneuvered through the set with such fiery passion that even if you didn’t know every word to each song, you felt like you did. When he connected with the crowd, it never seemed tacky and full of baseless “I love you”s. He even made the whole “left side say woo, right side say woo” gimmick fun and not a source of major second hand embarrassment, which is quite the feat.
At one point during the show, he sat down and basked in the energy of the room. The setlist was not a to-do list with songs just needing to be checked off. He lived them and breathed them. After a few moments, Ace detailed what it was like to be working on a project for nearly eight years and to finally play a show like that night.
Carter’s best quality is his humanness. It doesn’t feel like he’s putting on a show. He’s theatrical and vibrant in his performance, but there doesn’t seem to be a gap between music Carter and non-music Carter. Alongside genuinely loving his music, people come to his shows to support him as an individual. I didn’t talk to a single person in the audience who didn’t have something kind to say about him as a person. The audience was full of family members, old friends, party acquaintances, and strangers met on dance floors.
After the show, Carter told me that I was the first blog that featured his work from the standpoint of someone who loved music. The core of my article wasn’t his part-time job or a typical “against all odds, he pursues music!” type of sentiment. The article is about me feeling a magnetic pull when his music comes on and wanting to dance. It was true at the time, and it’s true now.
I interviewed Carter when I was sixteen and had just started my site. I had no idea how to write about music and at that point in time didn’t even know what “journalism” was. I just wrote about the music I liked and that was that.
I often catch myself feeling embarrassed when I see that certain articles on my site have a lot of traffic. I’ve grown a lot as a writer (I now know what journalism is– I actually study it), so it is awkward to see work that I see as less developed getting a lot of attention.
But I think I forget that these “embarrassing” old stories of mine are exactly what has created the foundation of my site. Seeing Carter reminded me that my work goes far beyond me. The numbers I see on my traffic page are people. Actual people with full lives who choose to spend some small fraction of their life reading what I have to say. And for that, I’m so grateful.
Building relationships with artists and watching them blossom is the best part of this little “job” I’ve created for myself. Sure, it feeds my ego to be known and valued by people whose art I’ve written about. It goes far beyond that, though. I’d like to think that the artists who trust me with their time and work intuitively understand my intentions and perspective. I’m not here to write scathing reviews about what is and isn’t cool. I’m just here to be a middle-man between artist and audience, carving stories out of people and hoping I don’t do too sloppy of a job.
I’m also here to tell you about the Holy Trinity of Ace’s show: passion, his Pottery Barn sweat rag, and the Spirit Halloween smoke machine.
Until next time,
Rocka out
(P.S. carter, if you’re reading this… please send me “griffith park” when it’s done. you have my info.)