The crowd was silent as the smooth and almost haunting reverberation of the word “habibi” lingered in the air.
No one dared disrupt the harmony coming from the deep, gentle voice and soft strums of the electric guitar that filled the Bowery Ballroom, an intimate venue on Manhattan’s Lower East Side.
At Tamino’s concerts, the crowd doesn’t scream their hearts out in wild abandon. Instead, the 23-year-old Arab-Belgian artist mesmerizes them.
In the days leading up to Tamino’s show at the Bowery Ballroom, there had been anxious talk about a deadly, novel coronavirus that had already created terror in much of Asia and was quickly moving west. And though there had been suspected cases in New York City, the sense of panic had not yet reached the public.
Many walked the city with an air of disbelief, but unease slowly crept in. People began to obsessively wash their hands and horde dry goods and toilet paper. To prepare for the unknown.
Amidst that simmering chaos, I remember hesitating to buy my ticket to Tamino. I’d discovered his album Amir by chance, and became an instant fan. I wanted to see him live, but like everyone else I knew, I was becoming worried.
I did not expect that only days after the concert, all of our lives would be catapulted into a different reality.
Little did I know that Monday, March 9th would be my last opportunity, for the foreseeable future, to do something so normal, so routine, as gather with a few hundred other people in one place to share an experience of live music.
The space, dimly lit, buzzed with energy. At last, the silhouette of a tall, slender figure emerged from a hidden side door and the crowd burst in applause.
No greeting. No introduction. Not even a smile.
Tamino dove right into his music and everyone stood as if in a trance.
The deadly virus plaguing the world was far from anyone’s mind. The only thing that existed was this moment, vibrations and a union of souls.
With only one album in his repertoire, Tamino’s time on stage was short. But he leaned on every song with his full heart, as if each one would be his last. Our last.
The audience shared a moment of serenity, and awe. Even after Tamino left the stage, everyone just stood in silence, still absorbing the Arab-influenced music and his rich, resonant voice. It was as if we knew it would be our only nourishment for months to come.
