Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
"Get out of my head, I should look ahead."
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
"Get out of my head, if I stay silent, I'll just fade away."
Cleverly, Ronan tweaked the lyrics on the fly. This wasn't the original version he and Ollie had written—it was supposed to be "keep loving you"—but now, he adapted to the moment, pouring emotion into his voice, telling a story that pulled every ounce of the crowd's focus toward him.
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
"Get out of my head, yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah."
"Get out of my head, yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah."
The light, airy hum, unburdened by melody, felt even clearer and simpler. The raw emotion in his voice—fragile, timid, bitter, uneasy—unfurled shyly, seeping through the confusion and doubt. It brushed against every ear in the room, delicate and tentative.
Once. Twice.
The repetition might've seemed monotonous, but Ronan's delivery layered it with subtle shifts, turning listening into a genuine pleasure. He didn't explain a thing, yet somehow the band's shaky start felt understood, woven invisibly into the performance.
Tension and nerves, urgency and longing, fear and chaos—all of it swirled in his voice. But there wasn't a hint of hesitation or retreat. Instead, he danced through the struggle, arms wide open, diving into the ocean of music and surrendering fully to the rhythm.
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
"Get out of my head, if I stay silent, I'll just fade away."
So enchanting, so moving. His clear voice stretched into a lazy ripple on the final note, like dappled sunlight filtering through sycamore leaves onto a balcony in the height of summer. White shirts and skirts fluttered with every step, a crisp freshness washing over the senses.
Before you knew it, your spirits lifted.
Clap.
Hands started rising here and there, joining the rhythm's call. Bodies relaxed, swaying to the beat with a simple motion that tugged smiles onto faces. Phones stayed forgotten in pockets.
Clap!
One. Two. Three. One after another, more people jumped in, clapping along. It wasn't the majority in a crowd of ten thousand, but it was enough to shake off the feeling of being outnumbered. Hundreds, then thousands, clapped in sync.
Buster glanced over his shoulder. Most of the action was in the standing rock zone—people letting loose, fully in the music. Even the seated folks in the stands were craning their necks, the chaotic buzz of the arena quietly sharpening into focus.
Even Buster's mood brightened. Turning back, he locked eyes on Ronan at center stage. A faint smile played on his lips, blooming wider by the second. You could tell he was completely lost in the music, radiating a carefree joy that made you want to dive in too, to share that pure, simple happiness—
Because you could feel it in his voice.
"Get out of my head, yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah."
It was a call to his bandmates, shaking off the nerves. A call to the crowd, breaking the silence. A call to the stage itself, unleashing song.
That's the magic of music.
And then, the applause swelled.
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
Ronan stopped clapping and turned to the band, signaling—especially to Ollie: jump in with the drums on the chorus.
Ollie got it instantly, like he did back when they played "Don't Give Up on Faith."
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
Though Ronan dropped out, some of the crowd followed suit—an unknown band's pull only went so far. But the die-hards, fully in the concert vibe, kept clapping, easing into it, keeping the rhythm alive.
Ronan's gaze swept back to the sea of people, soaking in the steady, fiery beat—not deafening, but alive. Then, with no melody, just the pulse, he belted out again.
"Looking around, shoulder to shoulder, tears become windows to the soul." (Note 1)
The melody shifted.
Tonight's opening song was supposed to be "Chasing the Light" for the warm-up set. "Get Out of My Head" wasn't even on the list—still unpolished, unrehearsed. But thanks to the hiccup, Ronan's quick thinking spun the performance into something new, unscripted. After a little detour, it circled back to the plan.
"Like a silent symphony never sung, that wild, wondrous hidden realm, a timeless masterpiece we'll never explore."
Lyrical poetry pierced through the crowd's steady, grand rhythm, bursting with unbelievable power. It was like sunlight tearing through the gloom, spilling over vast oceans and soaring between towering peaks—effortless yet breathtakingly expansive.
So vivid, so graceful, so beautiful. As if secrets hid in their eyes, treasures in their souls.
In an instant, a new world opened up. Bodies leaned forward, drawn to the stage, pulled in uncontrollably. This was nothing like the emotions of the last song—
Yet it flowed together perfectly, a sudden clarity gathering every heart and mind onto the stage, eyes locked on that figure.
Ronan paused, just for a beat. His breath crackled through the mic, a soft breeze whispering past your ears.
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
With his pause, the clapping in the Verizon Center surged, crisp and thunderous, climbing to a new peak. Over half the crowd had joined in, unprompted, the sound seamless and natural. No one stopped to marvel—before they even realized it, they'd melted into the moment, gazes fixed on Ronan, breaths hushed, afraid to shatter the spell.
"Because…" Ronan sang again, his voice clear and piercing, like an eagle slicing through a boundless blue sky. Ripples shimmered across the heavens, the vivid blue so striking it stole your breath. A sound like heaven itself rained down. "Everyone's chasing the light…"
The lingering echo was exhilarating… vast and stirring.
Note 1: "Chasing the Light" (Looking-For-Some-Light — Colony House)