Megan Kolb

I was seven years old when I first found Under the Table and Dreaming. My family had rented a cabin, and I remember poking around the room when I spotted a CD tucked under the bed. I slid it out, curious, and put it on. From the very first notes, I was hooked. I didn’t know it yet, but I had just stumbled into a lifelong love.

It wasn’t until 2008 that I finally saw Dave Matthews Band live at Alpine Valley. Walking into that venue after years of listening was surreal. The energy, the crowd, the music—I felt like I had stepped into a world I belonged to all along. That night wasn’t just a concert, it was the beginning of something bigger.

Their music has carried me through so many moments. When my grandma passed away, I happened to be at another show. That night, they played Typical Situation. In the middle of my grief, it felt like the universe handed me that song as comfort, like it was meant for me alone in that moment.

Then in 2012, one of the wildest things happened: I found out I was in the Mercy music video. To see myself connected to the band in that way felt like life had come full circle. I remember thinking, if nothing else happens, I could die happy knowing I’m part of their world forever.

The concerts themselves have always been my sanctuary. When the band plays, everything else falls away. It’s peace. It’s joy. It’s belonging. And it’s also family—the DMB family. Over the years, I’ve met some of the most amazing people through this band. Friends who know what it means to cry through Grey Street, or scream every word to Two Step, or dance barefoot during Jimi Thing. These aren’t just casual concert buddies—they’re people who’ve become lifelong friends, bonded through something deeper than just music.

I’ve also carried their lyrics with me through life’s hardest chapters. During my divorce, I got my “Take these chances” tattoo on my back. It’s more than words—it’s a reminder to keep moving forward, to choose hope and possibility even when everything feels broken.

Now, the music is woven into the next generation. My kids love them too, and hearing their little voices sing along makes me feel like the story has come full circle. What started with seven-year-old me finding a CD under a bed in a random cabin is now part of our family’s heartbeat.

DMB isn’t just a band to me—they are the soundtrack of my life. They’ve been there in grief, love, loss, healing, and joy. They’ve given me comfort, connection, and community. And I’ll never stop loving them.

LOVE, 

Megan