Michael Jackson is not a Basketball Player

A story about Paris, 4 musicians, and love.

I was on my second date with a musician I met in Paris. He had taken me to see his band rehearse. As I watched in awe the drums beating life into the room, his guitar joined in; singing like a baby on steroids. 

I was sold. (Or in love.) 

I wasn’t supposed to be there. My plan was to go on a world tour, the first stop being the Eiffel Tower. Three days earlier, I swiped right on a guy who looked like he could have a conversation and smoke up with me. I was a bit lonely and my sister had convinced me to download Tinder. “It’s just for fun” she said. 

I think she was tired of my 3-times-a-day phone calls. 

That night after his rehearsal, I gave Nathan the shpiel. Religious parents, 14 siblings, and barely an ounce of culture in me. Nathan was raised on music, movies, ballets, and films. 

You know, a Parisian. 

The most I knew about his world was the one time I heard “We Will Rock You” by Queen. I was basically illiterate next to him. And he loved it. 

For the first time in my life, someone reacted to my story with excitement. I’ve gotten a lot of “poor you” and “you’ve missed out”. Never a “holy shit, you’re so lucky!” as he exclaimed.

So the lessons began. That same night, we sat down in front of the computer till 6 am. He opened Youtube and took me down a tunnel of music videos with views ranging from 200 to the millions. 

My brain exploded. 

I remember at some point that night, it was late, we had probably listened to 45 songs already. Nathan looked at me with such hope, I couldn’t crush it: “You’ve heard of Michael Jackson…?”. I nearly jumped, I knew who that guy was! 

“The basketball player?!” I shouted.

Maybe I shouldn’t have said a word. Life lesson: never mix up Michael Jackson and Michael Jordan. Especially to a musician. 

So we dug further. Listened more. Slept a bit; he went to work, and coming back, we opened YouTube again. Then, nearly as fast as I fell in love, I moved indefinitely to Paris. I couldn’t get enough. 

Nathan spent days, then months, and now over three and a half years showing me stuff. He thought I was the luckiest girl in the world. I was an adult with fresh ears and eyes, absorbing art like he never could. Nathan got me a guitar for one birthday, took me to Disneyland* for the next one. We spent countless Friday nights catching up on classic movies and I even learned fluent French with him. 

After 2 years of listening, I asked to manage his band. It took a day and a half for them to decide; they agreed I was a fit. I was bringing 5 years in marketing and a passion for making things happen. 

We were golden. The pieces in place to fulfill dreams. 

The band got to work. That summer, we locked ourselves in a house for 4 weeks straight. The closest grocery store was a 30-minute walk away; our neighbors were cows and the occasional horse. While the band composed their new album, I joined in writing lyrics. Mostly, however, I watched them toil into the wee hours of the morning, their fingers blistered and letting loose occasional tears. They were creating.* 

In June 2021, we moved from Paris to Brussels with the band. Immediately, sounds started pouring out from the band house basement. Rock, pop, metal, acid-core; if it vibrates, we listened.  

This past summer, we road-tripped together to Berlin. As with every adventure, this came with its own soundtrack. We played our favorites and then hopped down a rabbit hole of techno, old German songs, and everything related in between. We didn’t need drugs to be amazed by the city. Even after the all-night ride and barely a 30-minute nap to count as sleep, we were out in town soaking up the unfamiliar sounds. 

I’ve watched Nathan and the band on stage 16 times, at least. I still can't shake the chills seeing their sounds marry each other. People say that real musicians make love with their instruments: I swear, I know what they mean. 

From our second date, my life with Nathan has been intricately woven with the band. Concerts and music video shoots set up my calendar; weekly meetings and frequent rehearsals filled in most of the empty space. 

I got more than a life partner; Nathan gave me a community, brothers, colleagues and best friends. 

But, in relationships, ups and downs are expected. Instead of revolving around Nathan and I, the downs we’re currently experiencing are about the band. They’ve been together for over 6 years and with me nearly 2. After all their efforts, we’re tired; disillusioned. The music business is hard, but no one knew how hard.  

While their performances awe audiences with the same effect their first rehearsal had on me, they don’t fill the fridge. Interpersonal relationships tend to go haywire when dreams aren’t accomplished in the hoped-for time frame. 

It’s an uncomfortable moment; we don’t know what’s next. Will our adventures stay in the past, while their soundtracks evoke memories? Or, can dreams prevail, letting the fun of these past months be a prelude to something great?

Michael Jordan (or was it Michael Jackson?) said it best: “To learn to succeed, you must first learn to fail.”

It’s a good thing I’ve succeeded in love. I hope it’s our time to succeed with the band.