It’s been a brutal three-week sprint. Tomorrow, I’m flying to Kentucky straight from the office. Tonight, I’m scarfing down buffalo wings at my favorite spot down the street before heading to the Central Cee show at Brooklyn Paramount.

Naturally, this week I’ve crashed out on FaceTime with my mom and sent my best friend cryptic my-life-is-falling-apart texts and then not answered her follow-up calls. But somehow, this concert was mandatory on my post-work pre-travel priority list.

I didn’t have much time to waste. I wanted to be at Brooklyn Paramount by 7:30pm, so I must’ve looked nuts meticulously and efficiently rotating napkin real estate to ensure the buffalo sauce wasn’t “on me.” (I have a strict rule about not eating wings in public unless it’s with family, or in this case, an emergency.) Long story short: I ate at a speed like I’d lost a fantasy football league, then made my merry way downtown.

Since moving to New York my favorite part of my life here is that I get to see every artist I’ve ever wanted to see, or local ones I’ve newly discovered, on a routine basis. If I see an ad for a concert I know I want to go to, I immediately put it on my calendar and buy a ticket on the spot. The old me, Miami Molly, would buy two tickets and hope I could find a friend to go with me. Current me has to laugh. I didn’t invite anyone to go with me tonight, and truthfully this had sat stealthily on my calendar for months and it so happened to land on a very busy week and a rainy weeknight where I considered throwing in the towel. My roommate said “Molly, you need to go. It will make you feel better” when I told her I was thinking about listing my ticket.

And it’s true – a freak like me can find peace in the back of a crowd at a music venue in this massive city. If you’ve ever been to Brooklyn Paramount, you’ll know it’s not a bad place to show up early to. It basically could be a palace, library, or art museum during its day shift. I’ve been enough times to know the side bar by the bathrooms in the basement has a living room lounge situation with a TV streaming the main room, so as soon as I got in by negotiating with a young lad the space under my umbrella in exchange for cutting him in the long line, I beelined there.

Looking like half the crowd’s mommy, I sat in a cozy leather chair with my double Jameson and ginger and began writing this scene report in my notes app. It’s worth mentioning that this crowd is not the type to carry an umbrella in the rain, much less own one, so everyone was soaking wet, cold, and smelly like the smell of a dri-fit soccer kit, which every fifth guy was wearing. It also was not surprising at all to me to see swarms of TikTok best friends, both male and female, who are certainly younger than me, as the core of Cench’s career arc came from his virality on social media. None of this is hate – they are just younger me’s – but allow me to revel in my late twenties confidence to just be the dork that shows up alone with her umbrella and then writes in her notes app pre-concert.

One thing I love to see is a Zane Lowe-looking father waiting for his son by the bathroom entry. Earlier this year I went to the Glaive concert and ended up sitting next to a kid in the seated area after the show who looked to be 13 years old. I asked how he enjoyed the concert and he got bright with excitement, explaining that it was his first one and his older sister brought him. It warmed my heart to know his life had been changed by his sister and hyper pop. The kid in the current scenario, however, walked several steps ahead of his dad as if to imply they were not there together. Honestly I hope he realizes how cool his dad is for this one day.

The longer I sat alone amongst the TikTok crowd, the more I felt like an undercover cop. That is until I ventured into the main room and a couple asked me to take a 0.5 photo of them and I realized I’ve still got ‘it.’ The DJ then came out and began educating the general public of transplants on Kyle Richh. There is something very beautiful about New York City, young and old, gathering on a school night to see one of the biggest artists out of the UK in the past five years, and three people knowing the lyrics to his DJ’s warm up music. Unless it’s Glorilla – I’m the only person who doesn’t know that, apparently.

Cench came out after enough time had passed for the ice in my Jameson to have melted into a watery grave. He immediately played his LA Leakers Freestyle which reminded me why I had purchased the ticket in the first place: he is my toxic and clever king. To the contrary, however, his stage presence was awfully shy for such a trending artist, almost like he had set his tangible fame aside and wanted us to know that he’s still West London and not so global as it seems, despite him saying into the mic that he saw familiar faces in the front of the crowd.

His set list checked a bunch of boxes for me as a longtime fan of his, going from Wild West, his viral freestyles, and his feature on D.B.E’s hit Overseas to deep cuts from his debut album, Can’t Rush Greatness, which showcased how many years he’s been working to get to this point. Perhaps his shyness on stage was really just humility.

Sort of randomly, he brought out A Boogie Wit da Hoodie (what year is it?) and it felt like a missed opportunity not bringing out Ice Spice, especially knowing how stacked his London guest list was. I digress, it’s a wonder why they don’t consult me for bridging the gap between the UK and US!

I must give credit where it’s due to Cench’s tour team and the Brooklyn Paramount sound checkers, because the levels were perfect. In a very cute way, I could tell that he really cares about the quality of his show, he’s been practicing and training, and that he wanted to deliver rather than just collect a paycheck. The only complaint I have is that he didn’t give us an encore, which was then saved by a sweet “get home safe” message on the screen in his CRG font.

Mad respect. I loved it. And then I rushed my greatness right out of there to the Fulton Street station to return back home, type this up on the couch, and go to sleep way too late for how busy my day is looking tomorrow. In every way, I am so grateful for the impact that live music has had on my lifestyle since moving here, and I don’t take a single show for granted, even on nights like tonight when I show up alone. Life is beautiful, and this is truly what it’s all about, innit?

Un beso.