Lotus

For those not familiar with Lotus, the band is composed of four young and funky dudes: Mike Rempel on guitar, Jesse Miller on bass and synthesizer, Luke Miller on guitar/keyboard, and Mike Greenfield on drums. Stylistically, lotus combines classic rock and roll jam band rifts with electronic beats. Their music also has hints of jazz and funk. Truly, they span multiple genres in each song and do so with complete fluidity. If you’ve never listened to Lotus, your ears are missing out on the sweet sounds of innovation. If you’ve never seen Lotus live, you’re missing out on the experience of a lifetime.

Flash forward to the middle of a crowd. After a long anticipating subway ride laced with glittery expectations, we were an arms length away from the stage. Nestled between our neighbors, we were like cheerios in a bowl—If cheerios could dance until their fingers learned how to dance on their own. Every second felt like the tireless effort to compact five ulterior seconds together. But, we were not tired. In fact, we were tireless. Our limbs, not bound by the confines of our frames, reached out into the crowd, seeking new sets of senses.  

They played, not only in music, but in shades of color.

 The lights, the sounds, the subtle ticking of the drummer’s base: I took it all in. Yet, as soon as any given sensation made its way to me, just as soon, it had been refracted. Energy bounced back and forth between the arrays of individuals, radiating vibes that fit together like lock and key. With each note we bounced from place to place, with the fluidity of a stream and the intensity of lightning.  

We were a part of something beyond us, but we felt as if we had created it. Still, we all knew it was more than that.  It was more than the lights, more than the sounds, more than the colorful clashing of clustered people. It was a scene so picturesque and beautiful, that as soon as it began, I was mourning its loss.  As soon as I thought about the place where I saw standing, I was thinking about the vividness of the memory the moment would yield.

We kept our minds awake all night, charging. Replaying the scene over and over again, adding without subtracting. Attempting to build, within the confines of our minds, something concrete to remember it by. For, alas, it was just a memory that we all wanted to go back to—and that brought us together, sitting in a circle, with the music still ringing in our brains, deeply, positively, sincerely knowing that we were a part of something special.

Terminal 5 / Fall 2011