It started with a text.
A text about a concert from 15 years ago.
“Oh snap. You were at this one? That’s amazing.” came the reply.
“(And something to write about)”
I didn’t pay much attention to the call out at the time.
Looking back at the text chain, there were discussions of “works in progress” and empty promises of drafts “to be sent for review”. Eight months worth, in fact.
Why did it take so long?
Well, the answer is probably contained in the story I’m about to tell.
The concert in question is cemented in Toronto hip-hop history. It’s one that gets brought up often amongst my friends who attended.
However, it’s not something I’ve thought much about.
That is, until Matt’s text.
The Tour
The performer that evening was MF DOOM. At the time, his reputation as a hip-hop legend had been solidified.
It wasn’t always this way.
“The last thing to fit…was the mask!”
A cartoon sample on “Operation Doomsday” provided a taste of what was to come. The mention of a mask, which would become DOOM’s identifying symbol, hinted at reinvention but also someone with something to hide.
The mask offered DOOM anonymity, but it also let him transform as he re-entered the music world after his brother Subroc’s death.
It didn’t hit me until many years later that DOOM’s mask was more than just a symbol. Turns out, I also was someone who wore a mask.
Fast-forward to 2010 and we find DOOM pairing up with fellow MC Mos Def for a rare concert tour.
The first stop, in Chicago, would set the table for what would be a memorable evening.
At a packed venue, fans eagerly awaited the co-headliners. After the opening acts rolled through their sets, fans waited. And waited. And waited.
As Andrew Barber wrote in his Fake Shore Drive piece the day after the show:
The crowd was annoyed and rowdy and by Midnight, with no sign of DOOM or Def, they began throwing beers, cups, cans, bottles of water and whatever objects they could find on stage…
…but lo and behold, at 12:30 The Mighty Mos Def hit the stage. Mos came out donned in a DOOM-esque mask…
…Mos’ set was pretty entertaining, and he must’ve performed 5 or 6 DOOM’s tracks and almost without warning, The Supervillain emerged from behind the curtain around 1:30am.
While the crowd was hyped, it became pretty clear that there was something off with DOOM.
Microphone off. Much shorter than the real DOOM.
Just a man in a mask.
A DOOMposter.
Imposter Syndrome
“Everybody wear the mask, but how long will it last?”
An imposter wearing a mask? Man, do I feel seen.
As the Fugees told us in “The Mask”, we all wear masks.
The reasons we do will differ.
For me, it’s Imposter Syndrome.
While there is likely a clinical definition for it, I view Imposter Syndrome as “being a fraud and not deserving (or worthy) of any success that I may have achieved”.
This shows up in both personal and professional settings for me.
Check out an industry conference with my peers? Nah, probably should pass. Someone may ask me a question and people will finally see me as a fraud.
Someone asks me a personal question at a gathering? Better deflect the question and switch the topic. Otherwise, they’ll realize that I’m boring.
Learn how to DJ and put out a mix for friends who would dig it? Better not. It will probably suck and they’ll think less of me.
The idea here isn’t to psychoanalyze. Instead, it’s to illustrate how I have shown up “differently” (read - not authentic) because of how I felt about myself.
In other words, I’ve been wearing a mask (figuratively) in order to hide the “real” me.
DOOM wore a mask to preserve his anonymity. I have worn mine to protect myself.
To shelter myself from negative feelings.
To preserve my “potential” (”I’d be a great DJ if I tried but if I don’t try, I can’t fail”).
But what’s the end result of this?
I'm not able to show up authentically, in social or professional settings.
I play it safe so there's no chance of failure.
I find reasons to say "no" to opportunities.
And where do I end up? In the same place I was before.
Feeling bad about myself. Diminishing my accomplishments.
A wise man once told me that I should always find a reason to say “yes” to things.
It’s a piece of advice that I’ve tried (many times unsuccessfully) to help guide me through decisions for years, and which eventually changed my life. But that’s a story for another day.
The Toronto show
The second show of the short tour was scheduled to hit the Kool Haus on February 25, 2010.
However, plenty of reasons for ticket holders to say “no” to the event were popping up.
It was a typical Canadian winter evening. Cold, snowy and the type of night where you’d much rather be on the couch.
Word had gotten out about the Chicago show. Fans were understandably nervous the scene would repeat itself in Toronto.
The promoter was even offering full refunds in advance.
Normally, I would have used these reasons as an excuse to sell my ticket or, worse yet, just completely bail on the show.
That said, DOOM has always had a unique spot in my friend group. From his tracks being the soundtrack to many evenings (and early mornings) to my pleading with my friends to give the Madvillain (demo at the time) ‘one more shot’ until they “got it”.
We knew the risks but we were willing to believe.
I recall a buzz in the venue that night unlike most other shows I have attended. There was an edge, like people were ready to riot if he didn’t show or if he sent an imposter.
To no one's surprise, the clock was ticking with no sign of DOOM.
The promoter would hop on the mic every now and then to give us an update "DOOM has landed at the airport"; "DOOM has cleared customs!".
There was a smattering of cheers for these announcements but the crowd remained skeptical.
Then, the strains of “Accordion” kick in and a masked man hops on the stage.
And…
“It’s not him!” cried the voice from the crowd.
Imagine our disappointment…well, don’t imagine it…just watch the video.
It’s fairly surreal to watch this footage now, 15 years after the event.
Our emotions ran the full gamut that evening. Expecting something special. Being prepared for (and initially feeling) disappointment. And then, pure joy.
You might expect the emotional roller coaster from a sporting event. You don’t typically get to experience it at a concert.
It’s probably why, 15 years later, my friends and I still reminisce about that show.
I’ve been wrestling with what that show meant to me.
On the surface, it’s a concert. I’ve attended many of them.
DOOM used his mask that night to provide a core memory for everyone who attended.
I use masks to escape; to not put myself out there.
Let’s go back to that Fugees line: “Everybody wear the mask but how long will it last?”
How long will it last?
For me, I’m taking a stand and forcing myself to no longer wear the mask.
Remember at the start of this piece when I said that it took me eight months to actually publish this piece?
This is me putting myself out there; being open to potential criticism yet also inviting people to see the “real” me.
It comes down to finding reasons to say “yes”. Showing the world your authentic self.
Believing in yourself.
Like, we believed in DOOM.