The Song that Stopped Me
How discovering Mei Semones turned a YouTube experiment into a mission to find real music
I started my YouTube channel in December 2025 as a way to stay busy while I was job hunting. At first, it was something completely different—a bass guitar channel called Growing Up Bass. That idea didn’t last long. Pretty quickly, I realized what I actually cared about was discovering new music and sharing it, especially from artists who weren’t already everywhere.
Somewhere along the way, I noticed a pattern. The songs I kept coming back to—the ones I wanted to talk about—were the ones that stopped me mid-scroll. That became the idea. The channel started to take shape.
Still, like anything creative, there was that constant question in the background:
Is this worth doing? Is anyone going to care?
Then, in early January 2026, I found Mei Semones.
I was doomscrolling when her song “Tora Moyo” hit me. I stopped immediately. Her voice, her guitar playing—it wasn’t just good, it felt different. The kind of different that makes you sit up a little straighter. I knew right away: this is exactly why I started doing this.
A few days later, I saw she was playing in Philly. I bought a ticket on January 7. On January 15, I posted my Scroll Stopper episode about her on my channel—now called Hey, Listen to This.
I ordered her album Animaru on vinyl, and it came with a poster. I framed it and put it up in my little YouTube space—not as decoration, but as a reminder. This is the point. There’s music out there that isn’t manufactured, that isn’t pushed at you, that just… hits. And when it does, it deserves to be shared.
Three months later, on April 16, I finally saw her live at The Foundry at the Fillmore.
It was worth the wait.
It’s a smaller room, perfect for this kind of show. Great sound, no bad sightlines, and somehow—on a hot April night—the air conditioning actually worked. The little things matter.
I grabbed a t-shirt at the merch table (I’m seriously considering getting it tie-dyed by 4th Cone Dyes), caught the opener John Roseboro—who was great—and then Mei came out and sang a couple songs with him before her set even started. That alone felt like a bonus.
Then the band took the stage.
What stood out immediately is that Mei doesn’t need to fill space. She barely talks between songs. She just lets the music do everything.
And the band—every single player—was incredible. Not in a showy way, but in a locked-in, completely present way. Everyone had a moment: drums, bass, strings—there was even this wild viola/violin duet that came out of nowhere. It never felt indulgent. It felt earned.
As a bass player, I couldn’t help but lock in on that too. You spend your whole life hoping to play music that gives you room to move, to explore. Her songs do that. They give everyone space, and somehow still hold together.
I had a smile on my face the entire show.
When it ended, she mentioned she’d be at the merch table. It was late. I had a drive ahead of me. But I wasn’t leaving without saying something.
The line wasn’t bad, so I grabbed a cassette (I might start collecting those—vinyl is taking over my apartment), waited my turn, and told her the show was amazing. She signed it, we exchanged a quick thank you, and that was it.
Simple. Real.
I drove home listening to her music again. I should’ve been exhausted, but I wasn’t. I ended up cutting together a short video from the night instead.
Watch the short video here
And that’s kind of the whole thing.
As I get ready for the next episode, I keep thinking about that first moment—hearing “Tora Moyo” and stopping. That’s what I’m chasing. Not hype, not trends. Just that feeling.
There’s more music out there like this. There has to be.
And if I can help even one more person find it—
then yeah, this is worth doing.