Willow Smith Almost Literally Gave Us Life at Her Toronto Show

All Photos By Matt Williams

Slowly inching my way into The Danforth Music Hall in Toronto’s east end, almost ready to fall asleep thanks to some sedatives administered a few hours prior (there are ways around not having medical benefits), there stood a small but excited crowd pressed against the photo pit at the front of the venue. They were taking in Toronto “future funk” musician Harrison, standing behind a glowing MacBook and in front of a screen projecting splashy, obscured, semi-sexual video loops of anime and computer game images. It sounded and looked great, but the hall was nearly empty, and the only energy that seemed to be coming from anywhere was thanks to a couple of Harrison’s backup dancers: a ragtag group of what I can only assume are his pals slowly grooving to the smooth grooves bursting from the speakers. Fellow local MADDEE came on stage to belt out a couple tunes out, her big voice made even bigger by torrents of reverb and echo.

Still fighting the urge to sleep standing up thanks to the once fun drugs still coursing through my blood from one of the five holes the college student poked in me, the hall filled up a little more. Just a little. The excitement in the middle of the small front-and-centre crowd was slowly building. Whispered rumours of Willow’s father Will maybe making an appearance floated through the air. “He’s here filming Suicide Squad, isn’t he? Maybe he’ll do the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air theme song!” But make no mistake: the people weren’t there for Jim West, Detective Mike Lowrey, or even Agent J. They were there to see his daughter.

She exploded onto the stage, clad in an over-sized, colour-addled kimono sort of thing and a blue scarf that would be big enough to roll her up into. Immediately, my energy came surging back. Consciousness was slowly brighter, more vivid. And it was all thanks to this one 14-year-old girl.

Willow Smith has some bangers, and as she bounced back and forth from each side of the stage with a vigor that transferred over not only to her fellow teenagers holding high their smartphones trying to catch the uncatchable pop star, but also to the hairy dudes and scene-y girls who showed up “ironically.” It might’ve been the fact that she’s too young to be debilitatingly jaded, or the gigantic bottle of water half her size that did it. But Smith, standing in front of projections of outer space and the natural world, proved that universal love and good energy knows no boundaries, especially not photo pits, which she reached over numerous times to touch her adoring fans. At least, she made us believe that for 20 minutes.

The abrupt end of the set, one that lasted even less time than an episode of the previously mentioned Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, caught everyone by surprise. She was just gone. We had been on a high that we didn’t want to come down from. My body jolted itself back into ready-for-hibernation mode. The hardcore fans chanted “Willow! Willow!” as the house lights came up and roadies disassembled drum kits. And walking out into the bright lobby, there was no merch, no real sign that the enigmatic teen had been there at all. Or maybe she just proved that her set wasn’t fast or slow, short or long, it just was. And time doesn’t exist.

Time definitely still exists for Matt Williams, who had to file this story promptly so his editor might ask him for more. - @MattGeeWilliams