Madi Diaz (Concert Review)

"Don't call it a comeback…." That's the first thing I said right before a Madi Diaz show when I met back up with, and was subsequently cut off by, the fabunomenous Queen McLean. Lauren McLean is both my friend and photographer; a friendtographer, Lauren has a knack for saying the exact right thing at the exact right time. Instead of allowing me to carry on with a hackneyed LL Cool J song quote, which I was saying to welcome Lauren back for her return to Philadelphia after she lived in Texas for seven years, Lauren nipped my lameness in the bud with a witty retort of her own. Lauren replied, "Call it a welcomeback." More than a retort, though, Lauren's quip was a report. Queen McLean's reportmanteau was prescient because she was reporting back on what, at the time, hadn't yet happened. This past Monday night in Philadelphia was a welcoming back to the future. This statement is not just true of Lauren and I as individuals, and the two of us as a pair, but more importantly it was true of Madi Diaz at her recent and redonkulously rad Union Transfer show.

Madi Diaz's Monday night concert was largely in support of her 2021 album History of a Feeling. Madi's fifth full-length studio album, and also her debut on indie-friendly label ANTI-, History of a Feeling chronicles the disintegration of a longstanding romantic relationship between Madi and her former partner. The full-length LP is an exquisite masterpiece of emotionality and vivid vulnerability. Prior to the release of this album, Madi hadn't dropped any new records as a solo artist for seven years, a number that makes History of a Feeling all the more significant.

At first listen, History of a Feeling seems to be about the breakup itself. Ultimately, though, this album is introspective and about the personal growth that occurs following such a world-shattering experience. It took seven years for Madi to come out the other end of her healing process.

In the world of storytelling, it's well known that seven is a magical number. It's funny how life imitates art. Seven is certainly a magical number in my own life.

It was exactly seven years ago I was on the cusp of turning thirty. It was right around that time I had given up writing music reviews on my old platform, not because I wanted to, but because I had to. My photographer had just moved out of state. More crucially, I had accepted a job with a startup that was taking all of my time and energy. I have long since given up that sucky startup job. But I periodically kept telling myself if I ever got the chance to write music reviews again, and the timing was right, I'd do it in a heartbeat. Fast forward seven years and we're now a couple months before the present day. I'm in a job I love, Queen McLean moves back to Philly, and these zwei marvelous Mädchen decide to tear up the town again. The end (and beginning) result is my photog and I back in action at Madi Diaz's Union Transfer show this past Monday.

There could have been no better welcoming back, a "welcomeback," to Philly for the three of us — Madi, Lauren, and me — than Madi Diaz's cover of Bruce Springsteen's "Streets of Philadelphia." The consummate cover occurred during the middle of Madi's sensational set. Madi said how Philadelphia has always been so kind to her. The crowd returned her kindness, in kind, with an unrestrained Philadelphia uproar.

Madi couldn't have picked a more appropriate song. Monday's concert was the second of Madi's two back-to-back sold out shows at the Union Transfer. Need I point out that these shows occurred on worknights? And not during the summer? To say Philadelphia loves Madi is like saying Madi's past Philadelphia show was merely good. In other words: both are massive understatements.

My favorite song of the night — and also from History of a Feeling — was "New Person, Old Place." Evidently, Madi knows this is a special song too. Madi elaborates on the song's lyrics in a press release, "It’s something of a reminder that if my heart is the house that I carry with me wherever I go, I can take it somewhere new, or I can do the same old thing I always do…I can clean the mirrors so I see myself true and clear.” Most of us have a distorted glimpse of reality. We view ourselves through funhouse mirrors.

It takes a clear-minded person to view oneself for who one truly is. Even more clarity is given when the same image is reflected back.

As Lauren and I were leaving the concert at Union Transfer, we were serenaded on Spring Garden (the street directly in front of the venue) by a friendly fellow named Alfred. Lauren, who happens to be an avid guitar player, borrowed Alfred's guitar and strummed him a song in return. It seems to me that Philadelphia wants our team of two to not just find new music, but for new music to be found — and played — by the two of us. And Lauren and I couldn't have been any happier to kick of our renewed connection than with Monday night's magnificent Ms. Diaz concert. We're both mad about Madi.