don felix cervantes

Beyonce wrote a damn good song, and Antony felt its reverberation. Don’t we know the despair of finding someone who presses all your right buttons—that moment that’s like, “now press these, text me, page me right now, send me a twitter: I want oh my god maybe love you…” or something like that, when desire for your lover leaves you panting over your beeper. Antony covering Beyonce’s “Crazy In Love” led me to Des’ree. Antony may be from the same oceanic chamber Des’ree climbed out from. Think of song, “Kissing You,” and the Romeo and Juliet soundtrack—the movie—Antony as both characters. Des’ree and Antony swimming in the ocean. The final song would be “I Fell In Love With a Dead Boy.”

At one point, Antony held the audience completely silent for about 20 seconds. It may have been 6 seconds—who knows? But the song stopped and not one person made a peep. Every seat in the Walt Disney Concert Hall got nudged in a comma (,). I had previously asked Antony what he thought about music, and meaning, and would he call music a language? He said he would call it a form. I asked, “A form which ends in what?” And he said, “Silence.” I’d say, yeah, totally. Rock. For his fancy concert, Antony wore a long, flowing white dress with a slit up his thigh, white tights, and a nest of something crowning his shoulders. It reminded me of tubes and playdough. We could see his figure wiggling though he was draped in dark shadows most of the show. A dim glow hovered over the twenty-piece orchestra, but the spotlights taunted us, rising, moving, cascading somewhat around, occasionally illuminating legs, hands, and finally, the conceptual art piece adorning Antony’s chest.

—Daiana Feuer