"My mum would always be singing Motown songs around the house, filling the rooms with soul, warmth, and melody. And my dad would play the saxophone. Before I even picked up the sax myself, music was already part of the atmosphere I grew up in."

We shared our memories first and asked for yours in return. Some answers were a few words long ("'Let it happen' — Tame Impala". Thank you, Gabriel!). Some were whole letters. One arrived in French. We obviously read all of them, and this newsletter exists because of them.

Ruben wrote us, "music has always been my plus one," that it was the only thing that stopped him from crying as a baby, and how that early love for music is what brought him to watch Doechii perform on COLORS today. Meresha shared that she saw the Black Eyed Peas in Poland at 10-years old and decided, right there, that the stage was where she was headed. Alix summed up an entire winter in two albums: Velvet Rope in the walkman, Ray of Light in the CD player. And Mosiah wrote a line that stuck with us: "music always converts a stranger to a friend.".

We didn't need reminding that this is the point, that connecting people through music is why COLORS exists, and has been for ten years. But your answers got us thinking about the room we asked you our question in.

How we see it, every room we’re in shapes how we speak. You'd talk differently at a concert than at your kitchen table. A comment section can feel like shouting across a crowded room, everyone's talking, no one's really listening. And replying to a newsletter email? That’s like slipping a letter under a stranger's door. You don't know who reads it, or whether it arrived at all.

Ten of you slipped a letter under our door anyway.

Is ten a small number? Depends on the room. This was ten people writing something personal into silence, with no guarantee anyone was on the other side. It made us wonder: what happens in a room actually built for answering.

Turns out, we've already been building that room for six months now. 🙃

It's a forum! We were so deep in building it – the code, the design, the functions, the structure – that we'd almost stopped thinking about why we were building it. Your answers reminded us what it's for: a room where we can sit with your thoughts, read them properly, and respond. Where you can see what everyone else said, and answer when you have the moment.

And because this is COLORS, the room isn't only for talking. It's where you can play us and each other something: submit your music, put people onto what you can't stop listening to, and discover what someone else can't stop playing.

We know "join the conversation" has been a marketing line for so long that you might read an invitation like this with some skepticism. We would too. But connecting is what started COLORS in the first place. And ten years since our first SHOW, we've learned one thing that hasn't changed, that an audience that talks with us makes better things with us.

We're opening the forum in stages. Not because seats are limited, but because we want to get the room right, and the people who come in first can help us do that: share what's missing, what needs fixing, what feels right. You won't be walking into an empty room, either. The first submissions from our global artist community are already inside, waiting to be discovered, and the first threads are open – including the question that started this letter. If you meant to reply two weeks ago and the moment slipped away, it's not gone. And if you’d rather start a new conversation, feel free; that’s what the room is for. The forum takes its shape from the people in it.

This is an invitation to like-hearted people – artists, fans, creatives. You and us. Sign up here for early access, we will start on-boarding the first people within the next weeks!

Like Mosiah said, "music always converts a stranger to a friend," and a conversation you can return to – that’s a relationship.