Air Supply rolled into Meridian on their 50th Anniversary Tour, and from the moment the lights dimmed at 7:30, you could feel it—this wasn’t just another concert. This was a room full of people stepping back into their lives.
The show opened with percussion, just enough to grab your attention before Russell Hitchcock stepped out from stage right in a red blazer and sparkly black pants, while Graham Russell entered from the left in a sequin jacket and open white shirt—very 80s, very on brand.
They kicked things off with “Sweet Dreams,” and right away, you knew Hitchcock hadn’t lost a thing. His voice? Smooth. Effortless. Honestly, maybe even better than you’d expect 50 years in.
One song rolled into the next—“Even the Nights Are Better,” “Just As I Am”—and that’s when I started noticing the crowd. Hands were going up, almost like church. One man a few rows down had his hand raised, eyes locked forward, like he wasn’t even in the room anymore. He was somewhere else—years ago, reliving something only he could see.
A woman nearby had tears in her eyes.
My friend leaned over and said, “We all remember who we were in love with when these songs came out.”
And that stuck with me.
Because that’s exactly what it was. Not just a concert—but the soundtrack of people’s lives playing back in real time.
Song after song, the energy shifted between celebration and reflection. The crowd danced to “Every Woman in the World,” then slowed down for “Here I Am,” where Hitchcock held that final note just long enough to get the audience to beg for more—literally.
And the whole time, there was this mutual gratitude. The crowd was thankful to be there. The band was thankful to still be doing this. You could feel that exchange in the room.
And honestly, there’s no better place for a moment like that than the MSU Riley Center.
There’s something about that space—the history, the architecture, the way it holds sound—that makes a night like this feel bigger. When Graham Russell took a moment to talk about walking through downtown Meridian and learning about the building, it didn’t feel like a throwaway comment. It felt like respect. Like he understood he wasn’t just playing a show—he was part of a legacy that’s been alive in that building for generations.
Then came one of the most unexpected moments of the night.
Graham sat alone on stage with a stool and a guitar, read a poem from his book, and performed “Me and the River.” Before he started, he asked for the lights to go completely dark. For a split second, all you could see was the glowing “Lady of the Opera House” above the stage.
And in that quiet moment, something clicked for me.
He talked about how rivers wind—and how sometimes they bring you back to where you started.
I moved back to Meridian in the fall of 2023. At the time, I didn’t fully know what that meant for me. But sitting there in that room, listening to that song, watching that crowd… I realized I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
That’s not something you expect to get out of a concert.
But that’s what this night gave.
From there, the show picked back up—storytelling about how the duo met 50 years ago in a choir room in Australia, jokes about never having an argument, and a stripped-down return to “one guitar, two voices.”
By the time they played “Two Less Lonely People in the World” and “The One That You Love,” the entire crowd was on its feet, singing every word.
There was even a moment where the cellists took over with LED-lit bows, looking like something out of Star Wars—completely unexpected, but somehow it worked.
And then, of course, the finale.
The crowd knew what was coming.
“All Out of Love.”
“Making Love Out of Nothing at All.”
Roses thrown into the audience.
A standing ovation.
And fans lining up in the lobby afterward just for a chance to say thank you.
Walking out of the Riley Center that night, I kept thinking back to that man with his hand raised earlier in the show.
Reliving a moment.
Holding onto it.
Feeling it all over again.
And I caught myself wondering—
One day, will I have songs like that? Moments like that?
Maybe I already do.
Maybe nights like this… are where they start.
