Who is your closest buddy at the moment?
A friend you can sway together with as you sing along at a show? Is it a fluffy labubu, newly signed by d4vd himself? A fellow photographer in the pit? Someone you hold tight at a concert as a song about relationships comes on?
Maybe, because of all that flipping, the impossibility of categorizing d4vd, and that is a unique strength of his work, is not necessary. Who needs to be confined to a box when you’re flipping into the cosmos after all? And here is where I would have inserted a photo of said flip. If I had it.
In 2022, when The Roadrunner in Boston opened, David Anthony Burke, aka d4vd, would have been 17 years old. He can’t even drink at this venue. This performance in particular seemed to draw many a sub-25-year-old on a school night in the biggest college town in the country. Well, school night and laundry day.
Spin, dry, wash, fold. It’s a familiar ritual with a familiar scent. Friendly. Inviting. Comfortable. And I found the pit at Roadrunner to be those things during Laundry Day. I made friends with the barricade rushers. And their labubus. And they, in turn, were with their friends, singing along, not just to each Laundry Day song, but every song that separated the opener from d4vd.
My first time at Roadrunner set a new record for loud environment warnings on my Apple watch. Though it is a venue designed to make you forget about the discomfort, you walk straight into the venue without any long corridors, there are plenty of bars, and there’s a vip lounge. I even forgot about the scratchy backup camera strap digging into my neck. Even the barrage of cell phone filming provided an interesting way to view the show: step back and observe a synchronized orchestra of lights and playback.
Everything down to d4vd’s clothes shifts many times a minute. d4vd sprinted from side to side of the stage. He would point out people individually, looking them in the eyes. Sitting. Standing. Dancing. Jumping on the stage. Flipping. Wearing his sweatshirt halfway on. Tossing the sweatshirt into the crowd. Playing piano. Jumping onto the floor. Leading the crowd into a boys vs. girls singing competition, and come to think of it, I don’t know who won. I guess we all did.
I had been warned about the energy. And I had been warned about the backflips.
It is hard to place what kind of music d4vd’s songs live in, and perhaps that is the point. From slower jams to pop punk to curious sounds to “Happy Birthday,” the whole point is to keep everyone guessing. Even with the backflips, which we knew were coming.
During what turned out to be the final song, I look down to take a note, I look up.
And I miss the backflip. Again.
I figured there would be another during the encore. Right?
At 10:30 pm sharp, as soon as d4vd was back from the stratosphere and skipped off the stage, the lights came on. It’s that clear indicator: show over. There would be no encore. People grabbed their buddies, those they flip for, and the considerations continued: Would you wait in line as it snaked up a staircase to purchase an $80 sweatshirt? Would they help you up after flipping or falling down the stairs (Ok, I didn’t fall down the ENTIRE stairwell. I just missed the last step and my knee kissed the ground.).
Who do you flip for? And would they flip a labubu out for you? d4vd makes it a goal to create experiences for you and whoever you flip for.
