Witnessing Trans Kids See Themselves on Stage: Jane Remover in Cambridge
A Night with My Nephew
This isn't a concert review. It's a story about the impact of representation and the connection between an artist and their young fans. I wrote this to share what it felt like to watch trans joy, catharsis, and representation in real-time from the sidelines.
Thank you to my nephew, Beau, for allowing me to write this little piece of his story.
Last Friday, I went to see Jane Remover at one of Boston/Cambridge’s best venues, The Sinclair. What I witnessed was much more meaningful than just a concert.
Truthfully, the intense video-game-sampling-electronica maximal-hyperpop experimental-rap of their recent album Revengeseekerz isn’t usually my kind of thing. But I wasn’t there for me that night. I was joining my 17-year old nephew, Beau, who is trans, to see one of his favorite artists.
We arrived a bit after the doors opened and the security/admission line was still down the block. We walked past a diverse array of mostly Gen Z fans, eventually turning down a side street and finding the end of the line right in front of Club Passim. A chalk-written sign outside announced that Olive Klug was playing that night. I showed my nephew their Instagram, noting how cool it was that two gender-nonconforming artists were headlining sold-out venues on one street that night.
The show opened with rapper d0llywood1, who had the crowd jumping and moshing from the start. Next up was DJ Dazegxd, whose chaotic, genre-jumping set mashed up just about everything. I lingered near the edge of the crowd, but did briefly consider diving in when he played a remix of “Call Me Maybe.”
Mostly, I watched the electric crowd. A group stopped, made space, and helped someone up when they fell. Several people put their flashlights on to help someone find their dropped glasses. A pair came out of the pit to practice a dance real quick, then went back in. Beau would disappear into the more lit part of the crowd here and there. He’s not hard to lose sight of at 5ft 0in. But it was never too long until I’d spot him again on the edges, a bit sweatier than last time, and we’d meet eyes and laugh.
When Jane Remover emerged, the crowd was in full fervor. There was no change of set required, with Dazegxd remaining to DJ and Jane simply wielding a wireless mic. Singing, screaming, and rapping, she matched the crowd’s eager energy, and they matched it right back—a positive feedback loop of raucous affection. This was, after all, part of the “TURN UP OR DIE TOUR,” and these kids weren’t going down tonight.
The crowd was young; there were a ton of X’s on hands. The majority of them sang or screamed along for most of the set, even as the bulk of the songs were only released a month prior. I was standing near the bar on the floor, so I was frequently stepping aside for the sweatiest folks who stumbled out of the pit for water and air and then quickly returned.
Beau spent the first few songs moving in and out of the chaos. When I lost sight for a longer stretch, I figured he wormed his way in front of the more aggressive moshing to join the tight pack in front. This was soon confirmed with a text message and live view photo:
Between songs, Jane signed phones and whatever else was offered up. She accepted drawings and other gifts that fans brought for her. She grabbed hands. During one of the only softer songs she played, a single shirtless fan got up on another’s shoulders. He sang every word, visibly emotional, and for a long stretch, Jane looked directly at him and sang it back. It wasn’t just fandom that I was witnessing in these moments. It was reverence. Appreciation. It was thank you for being here. A thank you for being you.
Before playing her penultimate song “JRJRJR,” Jane asked the crowd: "How many of you have changed your name?" The response was loud cheers from a significant portion of the room. The last couple songs were unrestrained catharsis on-stage and off. Jane paced back and forth on stage, still giving her most and still getting it back. I went up to the mezzanine for the final song to get a different view.
What was clear to me from wherever I was standing, was that the young people on that floor were experiencing something special. Seeing someone like yourself performing at such a high level and with such passion, is special regardless when you’re young. But when you don’t get this opportunity often, it could be life-changing.
As the crowd slowly dispersed, I made my way down the stairs back to the floor, looking for my nephew. He spotted me first and appeared suddenly in front of me, beaming. He was soaked and had one less layer on than he started with. But he had clearly had the time of his life up there in a crowd full of people that understood him, screaming words back to an artist that understood him too.
To festival and venue organizers: Trans artists are making incredible music. Trans artists are incredible performers. They are diverse in demographic and genre. They are in your city, the next city, and every other city. The young trans people in your community are starved for representation on stage. They will rally around the trans artists you put on your stages. Book more trans artists. There are no excuses.
Trans Representation at Major U.S. Music Festivals
We tallied the members of every artist playing 10 major U.S. music festivals. There were a total of 776 acts. Across those acts, 1,661 individual musicians were counted and researched. Here's how many were trans:
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Beautifully written article. Saw Jane in London last night and had a similar experience watching the younger fans in the room - gave me more hope for the future than I've had in a while.