Please don’t hate me. I used to wear crocs…admittedly often…and more admittedly with stuff jabbed in them. This meant hemp, flowers, plants resembling flowers and rubber bits resembling rubber bits because ugly was the aesthetic in a place like this: the half-wilderness exactly “somewhere” in Pennsylvania. Picture a lake hugged by trees and enough open shelters to house twenty-something teenagers for two weeks time. Welcome to summer camp. Here’s an embroidered guitar strap compliments of the YMCA.

I was fourteen and liked sitting on one specific rock by the water. Sure, the spot placed 200 yards between my self and my peers during afternoon hangouts and nightly bonfires, but I had charismatic counselors and an acoustic guitar to cut through the bookended discomfort.

And I guess I have Xavier Rudd to thank for that. The collegiate staff loved him, introduced me to his music, and gave me the challenge of adding his tunes to my unseasoned repertoire of “Blackbird” and…well…“Blackbird.” That summer, I focused on his memory lane anthem “Messages,” discovering how to hammer frets and sing above a whisper in the process.

I liked being the kid with hand cramps. It gave me reason to shake things out.

With that said, walking into the Paradise six years later to see Rudd live was nothing short of a shot in the dark. It was one well made though, hitting me right in the heart with an unexpected genre: reggae.

“How you feelin?” was the question of the night. Entering the stage, Xavier prompted it with a smile, making sure to ask throughout the set too. The reply was in collective dancing that started upon first island beat. Everyone was feelin’ good and, more importantly, feelin’ it.

As described by opener and band trumpeter Peter Hunt, Xavier joined the The United Nations in the best way possible: seeing them play, “digging the vibe,” and wanting in. Standing before the crowd, this was their second U.S. show ever.

“Friends, I mean it,” Xavier checks back in. “How you feelin?”

Full worthy of its name, the 8-piece group welcomed saxophone, trumpet, bass, keys, percussion and various interchanged string instruments played by the man-bunned frontman himself.

I would identify these further, but my already mentioned fourteen-year-old self opted from Canada at model UN. Throw what you know…you know?

And diversity within the collective extends beyond what’s played. In a roll call deep within the set, Xavier shared the origins of each person on stage, highlighting the New Zealand-born sax player to the South African bassist and his keyboarding brother of Papau New Guinea. From this, they created music on topics of a “one people” mentality, lyrically advising the crowd to “follow the sun” above all else.

“How you feelin?” he asks again. “Are you feeling loved?”

Song by upbeat song, the island groove never got old, with expert performing to thank. The United Nations took reggae for a spin by varying equally infectious rhythms abruptly from verse to chorus. Xavier often traded acoustic for electric mid-song, stepping away and allowing his amazingly talented background singers to take over.

In fact, my favorite track began this very way as the lights dimmed to the attention of one singer kicking off “Nanna” with the grace of her own scarf-draped microphone. Eyes closed and hands out, she sang with her soul into what became a gradual arrival at a chant to “keep the wheels turning.” As each band member drifted a step downstage, all claps were made for her, with Xavier’s being the fastest. Clearly no one loved this group more than he did although the rest of us were tied runner-ups.

“I would like to thank you all for bringing such beautiful energy here tonight,” he says, already knowing how we’re feelin’.

It turns out I’ve grown up since 2009. The once-solo Rudd has too, and I think we’ve both made friends in the process. An encore of him playing “Spirit Bird” alone on stage became proof as his band lined up behind him halfway through, arms around each other. The crowd followed, and the Paradise was paradise.

No rocks. No crocs. Just paradise.

I’ll go ahead and thank the YMCA for that.