The Concert That Changed My Life

It started with one song

The year was 2013, and I was a junior in high school. When I wasn’t at school, I was usually at home playing video games. Gaming had always been one of the only places where I felt completely equal. There were no assumptions, no barriers. Just me and everyone else on the same level.

Around that time, I was hanging out with some online friends, and one of them kept mentioning “FFDP.” After hearing it enough times, I finally asked what it meant. He told me it stood for Five Finger Death Punch and suggested I check out a few of their songs, especially one called “Under and Over It.”

The next day, on the bus ride home from school, I looked them up on iTunes. Back then, you could only listen to short previews of songs, usually around 15 to 30 seconds, unless you bought them. As I clicked through their music, most of it felt heavier than anything I was used to, and if I’m being honest, it intimidated me a little. Still, I kept listening, determined to find at least one song I connected with.

A few songs in, I came across “Remember Everything.”

Something about it immediately stood out. I replayed the preview over and over before finally buying the full song. Up until that point, I had mostly grown up on early 2000s pop and Disney music. This was completely different. It was heavier, more emotional, and rawer than anything I had experienced before. When I heard Ivan Moody’s voice, there was a weight behind it that I couldn’t ignore. It felt real in a way that music hadn’t before, and for the first time, I wasn’t just listening to a song. I was feeling it.

That moment quietly opened the door to something that would go on to change my life.

In 2014, Five Finger Death Punch announced they would be coming to my town, and I knew immediately that I wanted to go. By then, I had started building a small playlist of rock songs with bands like Skillet, Papa Roach, Linkin Park, and, of course, Five Finger. It kept growing, and I listened to it whenever I had the chance.

They were touring with Volbeat, Hellyeah, and Nothing More. At the time, I wasn’t familiar with those bands, but that didn’t stop me. I made it a point to listen to each of the bands ahead of the show. I wanted to know their music, their sound, even their members. I listened to all of them like I was studying for the SATs, just in case, of course, I somehow ended up meeting them.

When the day of the concert finally arrived, I was overwhelmed with excitement. My friend and my sister helped get me to our seats in the upper level of the arena, in the accessible section. I remember taking a moment to look around and take it all in. The size of the venue, the number of people, and the energy in the air. It was unlike anything I had experienced before.

Each of the opening bands brought something different to the stage. Nothing More quickly stood out to me and would later become one of my favorites. Hellyeah delivered a powerful set, and Volbeat, my sister’s favorite, left a lasting impression as well. Even though I hadn’t known much about them before, by the end of the night, I felt connected to all of them in some way.

Still, as much as I enjoyed the openers, I had been waiting for one band in particular.

When Five Finger Death Punch finally took the stage, everything shifted.

As they played, I watched the crowd on the floor come alive. People began moshing, forming circle pits, moving together in a way that felt chaotic but somehow completely in sync. I could feel the bass in my chest with every beat. It was loud, intense, and unlike anything I had ever seen.

And yet, it felt right.

I’ve been disabled my whole life. As someone who has used a large, motorized chair since I was a child, I have always known I’m different. I’ve had friends and a strong support system, but I never quite had that feeling of true belonging outside of those close circles.

Sitting there, watching the energy of the crowd and the connection between the band and the audience, something clicked.

For the first time, I didn’t feel out of place. I wasn’t the different one in the room. I was just… part of it.

I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

My friend, Jill and I

This experience opened my mind to a whole new world, and I was hungry for more. I wanted — no, needed more live music in a way I had never needed anything before. It gave me something I didn’t even realize I was searching for, and I was hooked. There was no going back.

That night didn’t just introduce me to concerts. It changed my trajectory. Looking back now, I don’t know who I would be without live music. It has brought incredible people into my life, given me unforgettable experiences, and eventually led me to build something of my own within this world.

Because of that, I can’t help but think about the people who haven’t had that moment yet. The ones who haven’t felt what I felt sitting in that arena for the first time.

Live music is magical. It’s emotional. It’s something you carry with you long after the lights go down.

And everyone deserves the chance to experience that.