The entire crowd is up, waving their arms, clapping - in time now - and stomping in their aisles. It feels like the whole place is shaking.

It’s dark in the stadium, but the glow of the stage lights is bathing the whole crowd in participatory glory. 

Under it all is a 1-2 clap beat off the drums, hypnotising the audience into their own rapture. People clapping their hands above their heads, tears, laughing and singing, so much singing.

There were speaker dives, guitar spins, torn vocal chords. The mike stand was a prop to be tossed around.

Hair was flying, everywhere, people were frantically dancing, stomping, spinning, screaming, shouting into the air.

The scene was electric and incendiary and engrossing.

The crowd, well, you had a choice: Get on board or drown in confusion.

None of this made sense.

After I started my business — after moving on from the suburban stockbrokers I was in during the GFC — times were tough.

It was much more difficult to find people to work with, things were more expensive than projected and it took far, far longer to find my feet.

Like, years.