“Music is the great uniter. An incredible force. Something that people who differ on everything and anything else can have in common.” – Just Listen, Sarah Dessen.
Yes, I am that girl. The one who makes playlist after playlist. The one who has a song for every mood, every situation. The one who flew a couple thousand miles across the ocean to watch Maroon 5 play live in Singapore yesterday night.
It was amazing. Maroon 5 sure knows how to get an audience dancing and singing along, and are one of those rare bands that sound better live than on the record. The preludes leading up to the songs, the guitar solos, and Adam Levine’s voice sounds better live if that’s even possible.
They kicked off with Misery, and played a variety of songs from all three albums. I’m so thankful that they played all my favourites including Secret, which most of the audience didn’t know (and chose that song to sit down for a break!). The band did an amazing mix of Secret and Tina Turner’s What’s Love Got To Do With It, that I am now persuading a friend to cover. But of course, I was primarily there to hear She Will Be Loved.
Music (and God, but that’s another story altogether) is my constant. A few months after I turned sixteen, I moved to Australia on my own. The years following that have been filled with good and bad times, gains and losses. I’ve met amazing people, I’ve lost them. I’ve cried, I’ve laughed, I’ve danced, I’ve been broken on the floor. Through all that, songs stayed the same. I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety nine months ago, after three months of struggling through it in confusion and silence. It is still confusing, even now, but I am no longer silent. Two months ago, I moved again, across the continent to Perth. All through that, I had the same God. The same songs. Some things remain the same wherever you go.
One of them is this song. The song that Adam Levine and James Valentine wrote; that I travelled five hours to see live. I’ve always loved it, but it took on a new meaning for me when life started taking a downturn. The nights where I stayed awake because I couldn’t sleep, the endless days and nights of just feeling broken. Of being incapable of feeling anything. Depression is one of those horrible sicknesses that no one can truly understand, even if they’ve gone through it themselves. It’s so different for everyone, it makes it so hard for anyone to be there. This was one of three songs that brought me through every single night for months. I’d sit on my bed, watching the sun creep in through the cracks in the blinds, finally feeling drowsy as Adam Levine sang from my speakers. Look for the girl with the broken smile, ask her if she wants to stay awhile. and she will be loved.
I’d wanted to hear the song the way it was written; the way it was on the record; the way I’d heard it hundreds of times before. I was prepared for an acoustic version- I’d checked the setlist of the previous Maroon 5 shows this year, and they’d sung an acoustic version for the last couple of shows. I was prepared to be slightly disappointed, and I’d prayed fervently for a simple wish to come true- that they’d play the original version, because it meant so much to me. I was initially dismayed as James Valentine started the familiar melody sans the rest of the band, but what ensued was eight minutes of something so incredibly surreal. It was so much more. It was the longest song they played. The longest by far. It is by no means their most famous song, and definitely not their most recent. And I found myself thanking God, thanking the band, thanking the stars, and just being so grateful that the song meant something to people other than myself.
The song ended with Adam Levine dividing the audience into two groups, and having each group sing a different line from the song- “I don’t mind spending every day, out on your corner in the pouring rain.” and “She will be loved.” I stood there, half laughing and half crying, singing the words with Adam Levine and thousands of others in the stadium. Everybody united in that one moment and in that one song, singing the same words. For a few precious seconds, I shut my eyes and heard a stadium full of people singing along. Over and over again. And for those precious few minutes, it felt like the world was singing along with me. The words that Adam Levine sang to me every night; that I sang to myself. The words that had come to mean more than just song lyrics, that through everything, had somehow become a promise to myself:
She will be loved.
[Someone who was in the audience last night recorded most of the song. By no means does it capture the emotion and the... je ne sais quoi... of listening to it live, but it is still lovely nonetheless. You can watch it here.
I was diagnosed with General Anxiety Disorder and Major Depressive Disorder in June/July of 2010. It was one of the best things I've ever done, going to see a doctor. If you're reading this, and you're afraid, I encourage you to get help. You are more beautiful than you know, stronger than you know, and more loved than you will ever know. Your life matters.]
You will be loved. You are loved.