At some point in their life, everyone attends their first concert. Mine happened in the summer of 2012. I was 9 years old at the time. Twelve years later, I still remember certain parts of this concert amongst fleeting memories of my childhood.

The opening act was the Lumineers, my favorite part of the night. They sang their new song (unknown to everyone at the time) “Ho, Hey” to a crowd of maybe 1000 people. I just happened to be at their concert, my dad given tickets hours before. He only decided to take me because my mom was out of town. I can’t remember a single thing about the headlining act, Old Crow Medicine Show, but I can remember my dad and I looking at each other, smiling, waving our hands during the Lumineers’ rendition of “Ho, Hey” that night. 

My dad thrives on routine. When he finds a song he loves, he plays it endlessly—sometimes for years. From the day after the concert, every morning he would play the Lumineers on the speakers in our kitchen as we were eating breakfast and getting ready for school. The Lumineers subtly became the background music of my childhood, a daily listening tradition that did not end until I moved out. I associate the Lumineers with my shittiest of wake up calls and the best days of my life so far.      

With growing up comes these fleeting memories where there are only certain finite moments that allow you to stay connected to your childhood. My first concert was one of these memories for me, a moment I reconnected with during a homesickness spell in college. After moving out, I stopped listening to the Lumineers. One morning my sophomore year, I started listening to the Lumineers again and became obsessed. I mean, knowing every song word for word obsessed. As I started to listen more, I felt more connected to the home and the memories I was struggling to hang on to after moving to college. 

As a 21 year old, my most listened to artist is the Lumineers, an opening act I was ironically introduced to at my first ever concert. Some songs fade with time, but others become woven into the fabric of who we are. The Lumineers aren’t just a band to me—they’re the sound of home.