I never understood the appeal of Slip ‘N Slides. Even as a kid, the idea of throwing my body full force onto a tarp covered in an amalgamation of other people’s sweat, skin and scattered grass clippings wasn’t a super inviting concept.
Now, hypocrite that I am, I’m going to spend the rest of this article talking about JID’s recent concert at The Masonic — and how my experience surrounded by a bunch of sweaty moshers scream-singing along to his songs was one of the best experiences of the season.
After validating my comped floor ticket at will call, I shuffled around the interior of the Masonic and tried to gauge my surroundings. On all sides, there were people from every part of the Bay — mostly 20-something year old students — jumping all over the place trying to get to the front of a growing mass of attendees. Entering the theater where the performance took place, all I could hear was belting laughter and cheers; smartphone flashlights and excited expressions were all I could see.
It would be another hour or two before the main event took the stage, but there were already ecstatic hushed conversations spreading about the openers. As soon as the whispers rose, the speakers boomed and the first opening act took the stage.
For the next hour or so, all the concert-goers on the floor stage screamed along to the music, crowdsurfed their friends to the front and opened up the center to mosh over and over. During Young Nudy’s special guest appearance, the fervor and chaos on the floor didn’t stop people from trying to help others out. More than once, a dozen at a time shouted that they found someone’s lost shoe, phone or wallet and once returned to their rightful owners, everyone in the pit would roar with appreciation and satisfaction.
Then it was time. As the openers retreated and the lights were set on the backstage, the anticipation building in the audience was palpable enough to fill in the core of my being — or maybe that’s just the bass from the speakers hitting your ribs, who knows.
Either way, as JID jumped out and began performing the top songs from his most recent album “God Does Like Ugly,” he commanded the attention of every single person in that auditorium. From the comfort of the recline-seating in the balcony to the chaos of the front rows of the mosh pit, everyone was screaming along to hit after hit, from “Glory” to “Community” to “WRK.”
As the initial hype died down, JID brought it back with a mellow, emotional performance of “Kody Blu 31,” a song about grief to contrast the upbeat high-octane songs from before. Naturally, a cascade of lights from people’s phones waved across the pit and the balcony, smoothly flowing as everyone sang along lyric by lyric. You’d be hard-pressed to find someone in the audience who didn’t have their eyes shut, phone in the air, singing along with full enthusiasm.
Water was passed around at this point, and it was clear that the people needed something to rile them back up to the energy from before. With “Raydar,” JID did just that. As if nothing had changed, the crowd was once again emptying space in the middle of the pit in preparation for the beat drop, only to rush the center all at once and scream-sing along.
This cycle continued on with hits from across JID’s discography, from his — as of yet — most popular “The Forever Story” to some of his earlier work. At no point did the enthusiasm drop in the auditorium, and if a lull ever emerged between songs, it was always interrupted by someone whooping excitedly with enough voice cracks to rival that of a pubescent middle-schooler.
Post-performance, the audience shuffled out as excitedly as they entered. Many stopped to take photos and talk to friends they had made within the most pit, and others rushed a headcount of their party to get out before traffic got too bad. No matter what, there wasn’t a look of boredom or flatness on anyone’s face. Even after spending hours in the middle of a palpitating human Slip ‘n Slide, the exhaustion etched into concert-goers’ expressions was one of delight, not weariness.