In Fall 2023, a mid-September Soulja Boy concert served as the first live musical performance in Tallahassee many FSU students had experienced. Potbelly’s — the classic College Town bar of Tallahassee’s antiquity — hosted the event. They ran a hard bargain: insanely cheap tickets to a distinguished artist. Naturally, the masses arrived, and The Garden was decorated with vivid hues and a happy, humming crowd.
In the wake of the occasion, my thoughts were far from filled with inquiries about Potbelly’s history; there is simply too much for the brain of a college student. However, an ordinary late-night TikTok scroll ushered me to a change of heart.
To properly describe my reaction, consider the color of jealousy. Though you’ll likely reply with green, I offer a different hue: faded blues atop a handmade poster, a flashy garnet-and-gold jersey, or the hazy purple lights and Florida’s palms. What I came to witness was a different tint than elementary green jealousy. From a dingy camcorder, I watched a 2011 early-era Mac Miller concert in the heart of Tallahassee.
Performing K.I.D.S. classic “Knock Knock,” Miller’s vitality flooded the venue. The audience moved to the beat with raised hands and voiced lyrics. Amidst his Blue Slide Park tour, the 19 year-old performer sang with a sense of belonging — each show emphasized his excellence.
Before the release of his debut album, Miller flourished in frat rap. Genre-similar mixtapes such as K.I.D.S and Best Day Ever caused some of his initial popularity. However, I Love Life, Thank You, and Blue Slide Park offered a uniquely jazz-decorated, poetic light that had yet to be displayed in his discography.
Miller’s pit-stop performance at Potbelly’s took place at a metamorphosis in his life. It was unlike anything he’d released before and happened so close to home — hence, the jealousy.
Rebounding from my reaction to this discovery created a series of online queries. I caught a recent homage. On Jan. 19, 2024, Potbelly’s hosted a Mac Miller night to honor the musician. Under The Tribe Hospitality, some of their proceeds were donated to the Mac Miller Fund.
As a venue that once hosted the artist himself, I imagine it was far more significant than a generically themed night: this was a tribute. The night was dedicated to celebrating a transcendent discography and soul, keeping his love alive.
Miller once said, “I think a lot of times, people just want to be cool, and to be in love is not cool. But I think it’s the coolest. I think love is the coolest thing there is.”
In my eyes, Miller was more than a well-written, happy-go-lucky rapper; he was a compelling and struggling artist. In quotes such as this and performances like November of 2011, his truth is clear. I believe the performer’s affinity for love melted into his music, and not without intention. Interviews, lyrics, and dedications tell it better than I ever could — he seemed to make music primarily to spread joy.
It saddens me to write that this was the only recent tribute event in the area. However, it has not yet been a month since the release of Miller’s second posthumous album, Balloonerism. If there is anything to take away from this, it’s that we are rarely powerless to commemorate those before us.
Movements continue to advance Miller’s memory to this day, and I would love to see a resurgence of remembrance in our very own city. Let’s make sure Miller leaves a mark on Florida State!
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