Love is My Religion Feat. Solar Flair and Shevonne (Official Music Video) скачать в хорошем качестве

Love is My Religion Feat. Solar Flair and Shevonne (Official Music Video)

I didn’t expect to cry at GeckoFest. Didn’t even know what GeckoFest was, honestly. I was just showing up yet another Gulfport block party. And then I found them— a band artists under a tent in Gulfport, Florida, tearing the damn roof off the place without even needing one. That was my first real encounter with *ProjectFree and Solar Flair*. Solar Flair’s a band made up entirely of artists with disabilities—autism, Down syndrome, brain injuries, you name it. But I’m not gonna let you off easy and call them “inspiring.” That would be a lie. This isn’t a feel-good story. This is a *fuck-yeah story*. Because they’re *good*. Like, legitimately good. The frontman Max is the Rain Man of Rock. Ask him what year a song came out—he’ll tell you. Ask him for the lyrics? He doesn’t miss a word. And the drummer? Her name is Lauren. She’s deaf. She has Down syndrome. And she *kills*. Has her own style, her own tempo. She doesn’t just play music—she channels it. Lauren calls me out when I pitch an idea she doesn’t like. “Whack,” she says. Doesn’t hesitate. I love her for it. In a business full of people who say yes to your face and no behind your back, Lauren just tells you what’s up. That’s punk rock. That’s real. And here’s the thing. The people who run Project Free they don’t treat these artists like they’re broken or fragile or in need of fixing. They treat them like musicians. Like professionals. Like the artists they are. They run tighter rehearsals than half the major label acts I’ve worked with. They text like politicians, plan like producers, hustle like indie bookers. It’s a damn machine—powered by love, by purpose, by belief in the magic of people society so often overlooks. I’ll never forget the first day I met them. I walked in ready to clean toilets if that’s what it took to be of service—and the first thing they said to me was, “We want to play the White House someday.” No hesitation. No small talk. Just big vision. Bigger than most industry pros I know. And they meant it. I believed them. So when we got together and decided to do a cover of Ziggy Marley’s Love Is My Religion for the Jebus Movie, it wasn’t some charity gig. It was a mission. We rehearsed, we filmed at this place called The Blueberry Patch—part art commune, part dreamworld—and when we got there, two giant 10-foot-high signs were already up. One said LOVE. One said REVEL. I swear we didn’t plan it. The universe planned it. That’s how this whole thing feels. You can’t watch this video and not feel something. You shouldn’t be able to. It’s not polished. It’s not perfect. It’s *pure*. It’s got a bit of dirt under its fingernails and joy in its bones. It's the antidote to algorithmic crap, to safe pop songs and safe lives. These artists have something most of us don’t anymore: honesty. Zero artifice. Zero cool-for-cool’s-sake. Just connection. Just presence. Just love. Real love. No branding deck needed. And in a world where everyone’s trying to pretend they’re okay, Project Free & Solar Flair say: We are weird, we are wild, we are wonderful—and you're invited. And if you’re not careful, they might just remind you of the part of yourself you’ve been hiding. The part that didn’t care about being accepted. The part that still wanted to make noise and laugh and say “fuck it” to fitting in. The more time I spend with these artists, the less I understand what “disabled” even means. We throw that word around like we understand it. But who’s really disabled in a culture that rewards manipulation and disconnection? Who’s more *able*: the person who memorizes every lyric to every rock song ever written, or the one who scrolls through Instagram judging others or pretending to have a life? Solar Flair forces you to reconsider all that. They’re not asking for sympathy. They’re showing us a way forward. So yes, we dropped a video. You can stream the song. Share it, love it, crank it. But more than that—look at what’s possible when we stop pretending, when we lead with weird, when we worship at the altar of what makes us different instead of what makes us the same. And if you’ve ever felt like you don’t fit, like your quirks were too weird, your gifts too jagged—welcome home. Love is my religion. And these are my people.