A Journey With My Musical Soulmate

“Who hears music, feels his solitude
Peopled at once.”
― Robert Browning

Almost two weeks ago my husband and I scored a “date day” in Manhattan (thank you Babu & Papa!). We got there early; feasted on Italian cheeses, meats, and wine at Eataly; and spent the rest of the time visiting our old stomping grounds and reminiscing. It was an amazing and beautiful day, but the best part came at the end, when I got to share one of my greatest passions with my best friend.

I’d been waiting (not so patiently) since March to see Josh Groban perform at Madison Square Garden. I’ve seen him live close to 20 times (including, I think, twice at MSG) and each time he gets better and better! The man is funny, charming, and gorgeous. And he sings like an angel.

After leaving the show, I had this incredible urge to write about him. It’s not easy putting something so close to my heart out there for everyone to see, but I suppose that’s why I must post this. One of my best friends told me recently that “writing is meant to be shared,” and she’s absolutely right.

I understand and appreciate that this post won’t resonate with everyone. But if you know me well, you know this has been a long time coming. In fact, I’ve been meaning to write this for a while now, but I just couldn’t seem to find the right words to explain how much he means to me. I thought it would be easy because he’s been a huge part of my life for so long, and no other artist has come anywhere close to knocking him off the pedestal upon which I have so lovingly placed him. It was bothering me so much that I recently mentioned it to my husband. His response was dead-on: “That’s because it’s so important to you and you want to get it right.” My husband knows me so well, and I must give him props here because he never fails to indulge my passion for Josh. In fact, he embraces it and loves me because of it! (Quick side note: I’ve been giving my husband a lot of props and press lately, haven’t I? Could it be just the emotional holiday season or am I just that whipped?! Naaaaaaah, couldn’t be the latter. LOL! Anyways, I digress…back to the Groban.)

From the moment I first heard Josh Groban sing on Christmas Day 2002 (yes, I remember the exact date), I was hooked. Actually, I wasn’t just hooked, I was a little obsessed. Not in a creepy, fan-stalkerish way, of course (although my family and friends may beg to differ, LOL). He was just so different from anything I was listening to at that time and his music spoke to me in ways I never could have imagined. It sounds silly but, in a way, I came to think of him as my knight in shining armor, my salvation upon the long road that eventually led me to my husband. Yeah, yeah, I know. Most of you are reading this and rolling your eyes and laughing. Believe me, I’ve heard it all. I can count on one hand the number of people in my life who HAVEN’T given me grief about my passion for Josh. They just don’t get it, and that’s OK. Everyone has something (or someone) in their life—some saving grace—that unburdens them. For me, that’s Josh and I’m not ashamed to admit it.

He is, quite simply, my musical soulmate.

At the time I discovered him, my life was all over the place. I was in a make-up, break-up relationship that was going nowhere. I had just started a new job and was stuck working the 1 p.m. to 10 p.m. shift in a field I knew little about. I was living alone in a neighborhood that frightened me, in a city I was only beginning to learn and understand. I had very few friends and no family nearby. I realize this makes me sound somewhat pathetic, but I had only just moved to NYC at the end of 2000 and the first anniversary of Sept. 11 had recently come and gone, so it was a scary, tumultuous time to be living in the city. Plus, it’s so true what “they” say: New York may be one of the biggest and busiest cities in the world, but it’s lonely as hell. And I was no exception.

That year (the end of 2002 through 2003) was one of the hardest of my life, and if I had been only slightly weaker, I doubt I would have survived it. I’m not saying that to toot my own horn or to be overly dramatic, I’m saying it because it’s the simple truth. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was desperate for some sort of life line, something to make me feel safe, something to keep me from drowning. And it turned out Josh was it.

He had just released his “Closer” CD, an album that would save me repeatedly over the next few months. With every song, I felt like Josh was speaking directly to me. If you know anything about Josh and his music, you know he’s a romantic at heart and that his songs deal with the hard stuff: loss, heartache, loneliness, romantic love, self-love, courage, faith. All things people rarely want to acknowledge or understand, except for me. I have always embraced my emotions, all of my emotions. You might even say I thrive on them. I especially love to cry. I know it sounds crazy but it’s so cathartic for me. And if anyone knows how to make me cry, it’s Josh. Even on my happiest days, that man can reduce me to tears. No matter what is going on in my life, no matter how low or depressed I feel, listening to him belt out song after song fills me with such joy, such love, such hope. That’s the power of music, isn’t it? To make us feel, to give us new meaning and new purpose, to make us yearn for something more. To me, his music is like being wrapped up in a warm hug from my dearest friend. And I so desperately needed a friend back then.

In those days, I would play that album on repeat during my long subway commutes back and forth into the city, especially late at night when I was nervous and scared to go home by myself. Listening to that beautiful baritone, I no longer felt alone. I felt safe. I would close my eyes and just let his voice, his lyrics, his music wash over me, and I would instantly feel better. To this day, whenever I start to feel life’s hardships taking over my mind–which they often do–I reach for Josh. And every time he relieves me of my anxieties, my fears, my stresses, my loneliness. There’s just no other artist who can move me the way he does. He makes me smile. He makes me sob. He soothes me. He heals me. He raises me up and up and up.

It’s amazing how an album or a song becomes so embedded in your psyche that even one musical note can instantaneously transport you back in time. For me, that’s “Closer.” If I had to pick one song from that album that defined me back then, it’s “Remember When It Rained.” I rarely felt happy in those days, and that song sort of became my mantra. It helped me remember that things could always be worse. So, whenever it starts to play, I’m right back in that lonely world. The difference between then and now, though, is that I can look back and feel proud that I weathered those storms. Because that year—above all others—strengthened me. It showed me that even in the darkest of times, I can and will persevere. And Josh was a huge part of that strength.

I will forever be grateful to him for that beautiful, soulful album. And for the six others that followed, each of which holds a special place in my heart for guiding me through whatever hardship I was dealing with at the time: lost loves, broken friendships, death, missed opportunities, the loss of myself (more times than I can count). I’m not going to sit here and pour out every story of my “life with Josh.” It would take way too long and I’m pretty sure most of you would stop reading, LOL. But each of those stories represents why he’s so essential to who I am. For the past decade and a half, Josh was my one constant, the one thing I reached for when all hope seemed lost. Until I met my husband, who became my real saving grace.

So here we are, 16 years, eight CDs, umpteenth concerts, multiple live viewings, two meet ‘n greet autographs, and thousands of tears later, and Josh still means the whole world to me. That’s never, ever going to change, because every time I needed him, he was there. When I was down, he “Raised Me Up.” When I was lonely, he sang me a “February Song.” When I wanted to quit everything and leave the city, he rang the “Bells of New York City.” And when I was weak, he urged me to be “Brave.” He has, without a doubt, been my “Bridge Over Troubled Water” many, many times.

And I just can’t thank him enough.