Chapter 121: Houston, We Have a Hit
Wednesday, March 23, 2016
Houston sprawled beneath the Texas sun like an infinite urban sprawl. It was the fourth largest city in the country, a maze of highways, oil skyscrapers, and neighborhoods that extended as far as the eye could see.
Michael had slept most of the journey from Miami, recovering from the night of whiskey and demonic confessions. When he woke up, the hangover had subsided but the song was still resonating in his head.
'Anima vestra', he thought. 'Your soul.'
He shook his head to clear the dark thoughts. Houston wasn't the place for that. Houston was energy, it was party, it was Southern hip-hop with a chopped and screwed flavor.
"How do you feel?" Karl asked, entering the suite.
"Better. Ready for tonight."
"Good, because Houston is excited. The House of Blues has a capacity of sixteen hundred people, but we could have filled double. The demand was crazy."
Michael smiled. "What kind of crowd do you expect?"
"Houston is peculiar. They like slow rap, sipping, the syrup culture. But they also like to dance. It's a mix of melancholy and party."
"Then I'll give them exactly that. But different from Miami." Michael paused. "Last night was heavy. Too dark. Houston needs something lighter. More catchy. I want people to leave humming, not crying."
"You're going to change the setlist?"
"I'm going to reorganize it. More hits up front. 'White Iverson,' 'XO TOUR Llif3,' 'Gucci Gang' early. And..." he stopped, considering something. "I want to premiere something new."
Karl raised an eyebrow. "What do you have in mind?"
"'I'm Gonna Be.' I've had it recorded for weeks but never found the right moment. It's about living life to the fullest, doing what you want without caring what people think. It has that 'I don't care about anything' energy. It's perfect for Houston."
---
The House of Blues Houston had that particular vibe of venues that have seen decades of music. The walls were covered in folk art, the lights were warm and welcoming, and the stage had that honest wear of thousands of previous shows.
During soundcheck, Michael worked on the new setlist with T-Roc.
"I want to open with 'White Iverson,'" he said. "It's the hit everybody knows. It grabs them from the first second."
"And after?"
"'XO TOUR Llif3' early, not at the end. I want the energy to be up from the start and stay there. Then 'Boss,' 'Gucci Gang,' 'Look At Me!' The party block."
T-Roc was taking notes as Michael continued.
"After that we drop down a little with 'Lucid Dreams,' but not too much. And before the encore, I premiere 'I'm Gonna Be.' I want to see how people react to something they've never heard."
"And the encore?"
"'Hope' and 'crybaby,' as always. But tonight the focus isn't deep emotion. It's music that stays in your head."
T-Roc smiled. "A hits show."
"A hits show," Michael confirmed. "Houston deserves it."
---
The lights went out and Houston roared.
It was a different roar from other cities. Deeper, more sustained, like the engine of a muscle car revving up. Texas had its own frequency, and Michael felt it vibrate in his chest.
"HOUSTON!" he shouted into the microphone. "The space city! The city where dreams take off!"
The roar intensified.
"Tonight there are no tears. Tonight there are no deep speeches. Tonight there's only music that stays in your head. Are you ready to sing?"
T-Roc released the first chords of "White Iverson" and the venue exploded.
'I done been through a lot'
'I done seen some shit, ayy'
'But I cannot lie'
'I done did some shit, ayy'
The crowd knew every word. Arms went up, bodies started moving, and the energy instantly shot to maximum.
'White Iverson'
'When I started ballin' I was young'
'You gon' think about me when I'm gone'
'I need that money like the ring I never won, I never won'
Michael moved across the stage with a lightness he hadn't had in days. After the intensity of DC, Atlanta, and Miami, this was a relief. Just music. Just fun. Just connection through catchy melodies.
'Sauce, I got that sauce'
'In that fast lane, goin' hard'
'Countin' up my paper while you countin' these bars'
Houston sang every word, and Michael was smiling from ear to ear.
---
"White Iverson" ended and "XO TOUR Llif3" entered without pause.
'Are you alright?'
'I'm alright, I'm quite alright'
'And my money's right'
The decision to put the song early was the right call. The energy that was normally reserved for the end of the show exploded at the twenty-minute mark, creating a peak of intensity that made the walls shake.
'I don't really care if you cry'
'On the real, you shoulda never lied'
'Shoulda saw the way she looked me in my eyes'
'She said: Baby, I am not afraid to die'
'Push me to the edge'
'All my friends are dead'
Michael jumped from side to side while sixteen hundred people screamed the chorus. It was controlled chaos, pure energy channeled into music.
'Push me to the edge'
'All my friends are dead'
After came "Boss," then "Gucci Gang," then "Look At Me!" Each song was a recognizable hit, each transition was perfect, each moment was designed to keep the energy at its peak.
Houston's mosh pit was unique. Slower than Philly's, more controlled than Miami's, but with a physical intensity that came from Texas culture. People weren't just jumping; they were crashing into each other like they were at a rodeo.
Michael loved it.
---
After forty-five minutes of uninterrupted hits, Michael finally brought the energy down.
"Houston," he said, panting but smiling. "Are you having fun?"
The roar of confirmation shook the venue.
"Good. Because now I want to do something different. I want to show you something you've never heard. A new song that talks about something we all feel but nobody admits."
The crowd calmed down, intrigued.
"This song is called 'I'm Gonna Be.' It's about living life on your own terms. Doing what you want, when you want, no matter what they say. Going all in until you're gone."
The lights changed to golden and purple tones, creating an atmosphere of celebration.
"Houston, you're the first to hear it. Are you ready?"
The roar of anticipation filled the space.
T-Roc dropped the instrumental. It was different from what they'd heard that night. More melodic, with bright synthesizers and a beat that invited movement, creating something that was simultaneously danceable and liberating.
The intro pulsed with energy:
'Can you feel it? Can you feel it?'
'Can you feel it? Can you feel it?'
Michael grabbed the microphone and came in with the first verse:
'Pop the top, fill my cup up, yeah'
'Keep 'em pourin' 'til I'm fucked up, oh, yeah'
'Diamond simon with my shirt tucked, yeah'
'Mink was 80k, that's fucked up, oh, yeah'
Houston was already moving. The song had that something, that vibe that made it impossible to stay still.
'I'll rock the shit, but not for long'
'Then I'll go cop another one'
'Some people think I'm livin' wrong'
'We live this life, but not for long, so'
The chorus exploded with a melody that stuck instantly:
'I'm gonna be what I want, what I want, what I want, yeah'
'I'm gonna do what I want, when I want, when I want, yeah'
'I'm goin' hard 'til I'm gone, 'til I'm gone, 'til I'm gone, yeah'
'Can you feel it? Can you feel it?'
People were already singing the chorus on the second time through, guessing the words, letting themselves be carried by the energy.
'I'm gonna be what I want, what I want, what I want, yeah'
'I'm gonna do what I want, when I want, when I want, yeah'
'I'm goin' hard 'til I'm gone, 'til I'm gone, 'til I'm gone, yeah'
'Can you feel it? Can you feel it?'
The second verse came with the same defiant attitude:
'Hey, why you so mad?'
'Never look back'
'Can't let up the gas, we movin' so fast'
'Yeah, let's make it last'
'Yeah I'm on to you, mm-mm'
'You're too comfortable, ayy-ayy'
'Who you talkin' to, mm-mm'
'Ain't no time for you, ayy-ayy'
Michael moved across the stage with absolute confidence, feeding off the crowd's energy.
'I do what I want, Tom Ford on the yacht, ooh'
'Richard Mille my watch, thousand dollar Crocs, ooh'
'They tryna tell me that it's luck'
'You probably think I made it up'
'I got it all, it ain't enough'
'But I'm still gonna run it up, so'
The chorus came back strong, and this time all of Houston was singing:
'I'm gonna be what I want, what I want, what I want, yeah'
'I'm gonna do what I want, when I want, when I want, yeah'
'I'm goin' hard 'til I'm gone, 'til I'm gone, 'til I'm gone, yeah'
'Can you feel it? Can you feel it?'
The bridge arrived with Michael shouting over the beat:
'Ever since I got a taste I've been goin''
'Every chip out on the table, bitch, I'm all in'
'I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be'
The final chorus was an explosion of collective energy:
'I'm gonna be what I want, what I want, what I want, yeah'
'I'm gonna do what I want, when I want, when I want, yeah'
'I'm goin' hard 'til I'm gone, 'til I'm gone, 'til I'm gone, yeah'
And the outro, with the question repeated like a mantra:
'Can you feel it? Can you feel it?'
'Can you feel it? Can you feel it?'
The song ended with the beat fading out.
The silence lasted two seconds.
Then Houston erupted in the loudest applause of the night.
---
Michael was smiling as the applause continued. The premiere had worked better than expected.
"Did you like it?" he asked into the microphone.
The roar of confirmation was deafening.
"That song comes out next week. Houston, you were the first to hear it. Never forget it."
The rest of the show flowed perfectly. "Lucid Dreams" maintained the melodic energy, "Betrayed" brought a moment of intensity, and the encore with "Hope" and "crybaby" closed the night with the emotional depth the audience needed.
But the "I'm Gonna Be" moment was what defined the night. It was confirmation that Michael could create new hits at any time, that his arsenal wasn't limited to the songs he'd already released.
---
In the dressing room, Karl arrived with updates.
"The premiere was a success," he said. "There are already clips of 'I'm Gonna Be' circulating. People are asking when it comes out."
"Next week," Michael confirmed. "After Los Angeles. I want the tour finale to have its moment, and then we drop the single."
"Smart. How do you feel?"
Michael leaned back on the couch, a relaxed smile on his face.
"Good. Better than in Miami. Tonight was what I needed. Just music. Just fun. No demons."
Karl nodded. "Dallas tomorrow. Then Los Angeles on Saturday. The final stretch."
"The final stretch," Michael repeated. "How are the Shrine preparations going?"
"Everything's ready. Six thousand people. The biggest show of your career. The press is already confirmed: Rolling Stone, Billboard, Complex, they're all going to be there."
Michael closed his eyes, visualizing the moment.
"Six thousand people," he murmured. "In January I couldn't fill a two-hundred-person club. And now..."
"And now you're one of the biggest stars of the moment," Karl completed. "Enjoy it, Mike. You earned it."
Michael opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling.
"Not yet," he said. "I haven't won anything yet. Los Angeles is the final test. If I conquer LA, then we can talk about winning."
Karl smiled. "Always hungry. That's why it works."
"Always hungry," Michael confirmed. "It's the only way to survive."
The bus waited outside, ready to take him to Dallas.
Two more shows.
And then, Los Angeles.
The end of everything.
And the beginning of something new.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
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