His face was full of youth and innocence, not yet tainted by age or sin. He sang with a voice untouched by the weight of puberty, more pure than bodies baptized in Lake Minnetonka. He was Chris Brown, a teenager who arrived one random day and would become one of the many teen idols of my adolescence, of my generation. The girls adored him, the boys respected him―it was more than the music. Chris captured the hearts of those who were also young and innocent, those his age who wanted an artist to call their own.

After performing to a crowd of close to 500 souls in Atlanta, RCA buzzmaker Khalid prepared to meet and greet anyone who cared to patiently wait in line for an encounter with the teenage songbird. Usually, artists meet a small number of fans before a performance, but the announcement didn’t come until after he left the stage. I found this to be rather strange. He should have been tired, heading back to the bus and preparing for the next date on his tour, but instead, he signed autographs, took pictures, selfies for Snapchat―for almost two hours after performing Khalid did what he could to make his adoring fans feel special. --- freeringtonesfree.mobi freeringtonesfree.mobi freeringtonesfree.mobi