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A music photographer breaths not air, but melody, not oxygen, but sounds. Within the ‘click’ of a camera, a magical moment is captured in song. Alike those magical moments wherein a feeling is captured during a scene in television or movies, an unforgettable, real-life experience is born. A round, glass lens is not just an entrance or window to that moment, that feeling – but the soul of that soundtrack; the one instance where everything becomes a perfectly mirrored ideal – alike a feeling captured while watching a scene in television or movies. Magic. When that one instance happens, the air becomes lighter, fresher. A music photographer becomes a sponge for each melody, each magical moment – soaking it up and spitting it out through a small, glass lens. This is where a music photographer lives. Their pulse follows not beats of the heart, but beats of musical rhythm. He or she dwells in cues – a quick drum roll, a smooth guitar solo. They are the cues of brilliance and sparkle – of lights, camera, action. A music photographer is the memory of bright lights and long nights. He or she is the clarity of booze-infused minds and drug-induced amnesia. He or she transforms time – freezes it, holds it and supplies it. Magic. Think of it: The audience captured at its heightened sense of authenticity. Moving sneakers against the floor. Transfixed eyes upon the stage – moved by the melody, and the performers: Rainbow skin, hot from stage lights. From their instruments, they look down at the floor – at the laughing, screaming faces. The faces – hot from the excitement – sing back every word. The entire venue lights up in a magical aura, breathing not air, but melody. Not oxygen, but sounds. The music photographer captures this moment in time through individual snapshots. ‘Click.’ ‘Click.’ ‘Click.’ They create a puzzle displaying the perfectly mirrored ideal played back to each side of the venue. It resembles that feeling one gets from a watching an emotion-drawing scene in television or movies. Magic. Magic is the music photographer. It is the one who holds moments which only arrive through the heady rhythm of sound. They are there – the photographers – storing the memories away for those who are fully, freely able to enjoy them. They are there to restore the clarity of booze-infused minds and drug-induced amnesia; to preserve the sweat and the tears, the tired feet and the lost voices. They capture the soundtrack to the experience – forever locked into a round, glass lens. They capture the perfectly mirrored ideal that everyone knows, but, sadly, does not always come to realize. Unlike television or movies, these moments are not scripted, happening sporadically and when the universe wills them to. One can only be so lucky to experience such magic and have it frozen in time, mentally unchanged for years to come. Because during those unforgettable, breathtaking moments, one never seems to have a camera, do they?
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