A personal goal of mine this year has been to see more live performances of artists I listen to — to experience the music. One of the interesting learnings has been noticing how my understanding and appreciation of the music changes through watching these artists perform. Seeing Bien live in Kenya at his 2023 December Blankets and Wine show was a taste of just how much excitement and emotion he is able to effortlessly bring out of his crowd. I must confess that I am a late-comer to his live shows but nonetheless, I was there last night where the crowd was gawd-damn loud and proud, immersed in what, I think so far, only Bien is able to do on stage that sets his show uniquely apart from other performers I have seen live.
For the show, I rummaged my wardrobe for something decent, picked out the socks to match the shoes, pressed a shirt that I didn’t end up wearing, but ending up with a fit I liked and felt good about going out. Sounds of Brazil, the venue of the scene is a cozy space tucked in a corner of Manhattan’s West Village. It is also a simple space that screams party-all-night-long!! with the bar and toilets easy to access and a dance floor where there’s no hiding.
Now living in a country where I don’t fit neatly into most spaces that I walk into, yesterday I felt at ease. The air in this city is thick with smells, sounds, mystery, allure and restlessness, but yesterday I was reminded that I can embrace more pockets of joy in the uncertainty. While I do the work of weaving together my own hopes and dreams with the help my mother’s prayers and lessons I carried with me from home, yesterday all this doing felt that bit easier to carry. More than anything, leaving and acknowledging my severance from the earth that birthed me has made me sad and drunk with nostalgia for a time when I was just a kid — wild and unapologetically curious. I yearn for the morning dew from those cold July months, for the sun that makes me sleepy and the rain that drums a beat on the roof throughout the night, for a familiar place I once knew so well but now feels distant and strange. At times when I get back from a visit home, I tuck away a snack I bought in some drawer in my apartment, eventually forgetting it and find it again months later, eat it gently on the couch, mostly always pausing what’s playing and sitting in the moment. The truth is that I do hunger for and desire connections — with people and places in a way that feels more real and permanent than the occasional trip or the long-distance relationships. These connections sometimes fade away or end and I find myself grieving the loss when I least expect. Yet, this desire can be at times paralyzing. I find myself craving the tiniest of scraps for a thing that can remind me of something I had. Last night, Bien gifted me, and most certainly others, a violent hope in building again and again what might have felt too bold and overwhelming.
Bien’s body of work is filled with mesmerizing and creative ways to love and to hope. Coming from a country that wants me to forget, he expands my capacity to dream beyond my own carefully constructed world. I find it hard to believe that him and I were raised in the same country because, while I am a mountain of doubt, he whispers so gingerly and then, with a boldness, belts out songs that encourage me to care more about everything that I am a part of.
For Bien, the crowd dances and teases him on. He obliges a thousand percent and gives us anthems we dance through in this world. He brings me into his imaginations, dreams, longings and dares me to have the courage to create out of the simple things I have, an expansive and wholesome life. And all of this, he beckons, is very much worth every second that I invest my time and energy into. Having left a country that wants me to forget, the concert reminded me that I desperately need to keep naturing my curiosity and love, even when I fall so hard that I don’t want to get up.
The party was wilding, following his lead to the every last lyric of his songs. That I know what Bien I will see on stage and what he brings out of the crowd is, I think, the most powerful aspect of the Bien experience. He will deliver and more. He has evolved most certainly beyond his music to the point that even before he steps on stage, most of the work is already done for him through just the anticipation of seeing him live.
Moreover, when he walks on stage, he is very personable, generous and tender, stopping mid-performance last night to sing a couple’s proposal and continue pouring into the hearts of those who have come to see him. This makes his performance feel dreamy — closing the distance between real and imagined, even if for those few hours when everything feels perfect. Bien doesn’t need to struggle to please the crowd, or work his way up and down a crescendo. The Bien concert sustains the energy and attention at maximum levels throughout. And we whole-heartedly dance our way through.