Defeating Steve Lacy Resellers by the Power of Manifestation
Last Saturday, I saw Steve Lacy live at his sold out show at Radio City Music Hall. I sat 5 rows away from the stage, screaming his lyrics about queer situationship drama right back at him.
Not only that, but I got to meet Steve up close. I thanked him for taking the catastrophe of feelings inside me and releasing them on a masterpiece of an album titled Oh Yeah? I thanked him for being the soundtrack of my adolescence as we snapped a photo together, our brownskinned boyish smiles flush against each other.
And I did it all for FREE.99.
How did I do it? Through the powers of manifestation, magic, and trust.
☆☆☆
To explain how I pulled this off, I’ve gotta rewind to a Friday morning in August 2026 when the Oh Yeah? tour tickets had just dropped. Usually I’m a Ticketmaster shark when it comes to the gruesome battlefield of ticket releases, but thanks to the PST to EST time difference, I’d slept through the 7 AM sale start and woken up to egregious $500 resale prices. Yuck!
I swallowed the pill, convincing myself that he’d probably add another NYC show within the next week anyways. I waited for a week. A week became a month. A month became three. Steve never added another show.
Still, in those three months I devoted myself to the album. I bussed to San Francisco’s Amoeba Records to buy the vinyl. I howled the lyrics in my car with the windows down, speeding up Norcal’s Pacheco Pass as a sunset chased me through the rearview mirror. As the concert drew nearer I upped the ante. I started mentioning it in casual conversations, with strangers and friends alike. I marked the date in my calendar and journaled about my excitement to attend the show. The day before the concert I commented on a Tik Tok complaining about not having tickets: “I don’t know how but I do know I WILL be there ✅.” I threw myself into pure manifestation, trusting in the universe that I would land in a Radio City seat come October.
By 8pm the tickets were still tauntingly way above my budget. I hopped on the downtown M4 to Midtown Manhattan anyways. Weaving through Rockefeller Center tourists, I lunged towards the gleaming neon lights of Radio City Music Hall. The glowing script read “STEVE LACY: SOLD OUT.” The side of the building pounded from subwoofers from the inside out. The walls were bare; at least there was no line to get to the box office. I charged forward.
The magic moment appeared as I turned the corner to the venue’s entrance. There before me, a woman was waving a paper slip to a group of teens not too far away.
“I’ve got an extra ticket to Steve Lacy if you guys want it.”
A gift from the universe flashed right before me. The teens stalled in their response. I didn’t. I dove for the gracious opportunity and within moments she placed it in my outstretched palms. Seconds later I was flying through security and into the double doors.
☆☆☆
I found myself dowsed in strobing stage lights and a sonically induced high. 5 rows away from Steve Lacy himself, I thrashed in the euphoria of the experience. I completely lost it. I gagged. I screamed. I twirled about in unabashed fangirl fashion. The people next to me were surely sick of my shenanigans by the show’s end. I couldn’t possibly have cared less.
The performance was spectacular to say the least. I’d joined the party just in time to witness Steve’s iconic 5 minute improvised “shut the fuck up” outro for doom. His voice peaked and fluttered through gorgeous falsetto notes, all while repeating the words “shut the fuck up” over and over again. I ate it right up and so did the rest of Radio City. Then he finished off the Oh Yeah? stretch of the setlist with the soul-shattering hell that is nothing, the queer banger that is lovesexdrugbomb, the head bopping anthem that is nice shoes/in your world, and the bittersweet goodbye that is bebe. My divine high carried me through the next hour and a half. No weed, no cheap alcohol, just ecstacy from my resonance with the music before me.
Steve served us a two-for-one with his comedy act as well. By the time he finished bebe he’d returned from his costume change. The costume change entailed him taking his shirt off, flaunting the myriad of tattoos that adorned his skin. He looked good and he knew it, stopping the concert to pose for photos. The jumbo-tron blew up his toned body on the screens above. The crowd went feral.
He wove more slapstick jokes throughout the rest of the set as he took us back to some of his older hits. My heart warmed with nostalgia as he played classics like Only If and C U Girl. Later, Fousheé sauntered onto the stage making a surprise guest appearance for their Sunshine duet. Their vocals harmonized in quavering vibratos, and the two of them danced to the music as if there weren’t 6,000 people freaking out behind them. They were having fun and we were merely witnesses.
He kept things moving right along with a cover of This Night Has Opened My Eyes by The Smiths. At first glance the choice seems out of place, but it nestled itself right into the set perfectly. Angsty lyrics streaming out of a young man over guitar melodies? If doesn’t emulate Morrissey, then I don’t know what does.
The rest of the concert was a supercut of the stellar discography that Steve has developed over the past decade. Cult classics like N Side, Infrunami, Bad Habit, and Dark Red swooped us into the final songs of the setlist. Frequently adlibbing improvised endings, he breathed a new life into each song through his performance. His artistry was on full display, foregrounding the moody stage lights and smoky atmosphere.
Tragically, it came time for his encore. He didn’t bother leaving the stage again, he just kicked off the bouncing baseline of the feeling and carried us to the finish line. After losing myself in the all too relatable lyrics of the feeling and oh yeah?, Steve was telling us “thank you” and “I love you New York” over his rockstar guitar chords for the last time. The concert was over. It was time to come down and go home.
☆☆☆
I waded through my recollections of the concert all the way to the merch table. I had no issue coughing up $30 for a poster after anticipating $200 for the show alone. After securing my souvenir I began scouting the crowd to bum someone for a phone charger. In my search I spotted a familiar silhouette. As trust would have it, I’d run into a long time Tik Tok mutual.
We caught up with each other as I borrowed his friend’s portable charger. Wandering through conversation, we ended up outside in the brisk October air. They mentioned they were going to wait outside to see Steve as he exited. I rationalized that I needed to charge my phone longer, but I had nothing better to do anyways.
So we waited.
We waited while reminiscing. We waited while cracking jokes. We waited while wondering if he’d ever come out of the venue. It wasn’t a tiresome wait though. We waited together, alright and in community. At 12:40 AM Steve strode outside at last. The small crowd of other fans waiting flocked right to him, but he kept his cool aura through it all. He signed whatever people handed him and flicked up with whoever asked. Him, in his light eyeshadow and rockstar avatar. He thanked each and every one of us as he snapped photos left and right. I could tell he wasn’t ecstatic to be overwhelmed by us, but he was genuinely grateful for our support. He told us so.
I patiently inched my way through the thick of the crowd. I said “thank you Steve,” and that got his attention. He saluted me with his hand as I made it to the front of the crowd.
By the time I got there, Steve announced he had to go and asked us to take one group photo. We all obliged, turning our backs, holding our breath, flashing our teeth and our cameras too. For a second the attention frenzy dissipated. As it resumed, I asked Steve if he had time to sign my poster before he left.
“Yeah, I gotchu.”
He signed it “Steve Ⅱ”. While he scribbled away we related about being from California. Apparently his mom used to work in my hometown a few years back. We chuckled for less than an instant before he was drifting back to his car.
“Alright, nice to meet you.” he peaced out.
“You too, thank you!” I replied in awe.
☆☆☆
Then he was gone, but I still wasn’t sobering up. Giddy off the night I’d had, the music I’d experienced, and the people that I’d connected with, I was astounded in my reflection. It hadn’t been a pathetic surrender to the scammers on Reddit that had made it possible. It hadn’t been blowing up Steve’s DMs for extra tickets either. It had been all those days worth of streaming the album. It had been those mornings full of deluded anticipation. It had been that belief in a future I could feel but never prove. It had all been earned and I’d gotten what I deserved. It had all been conjured by trust.