Art on Wax: Aaron Hall’s “I Miss You” Music Video Ruined My Day Again

I'm talking to you babyyyyyyyyyyy

The other day I decided to rewatch Aaron Hall’s “I Miss You” music video. I don’t know what possessed me. Maybe I was feeling nostalgic. Maybe I was just scrolling too deep. Either way, I pressed play and immediately remembered why this video haunted me as a child. But watching it now, as a grown woman who’s experienced real loss and understands emotional weight in a different way, it hit like a truck. A slow one.

What I thought would be a sad but harmless little R&B throwback turned into a full on emotional ambush. We’re talking grief, death, childbirth complications, Black and white flashbacks, nursery scenes, church pews, and a level of dramatic crying I wasn’t prepared for before noon. The video felt like a short film with no resolution, just sorrow sitting heavy on your chest.

And that’s when I realized: music videos are not just accessories to the music. They are archives of emotion. They’re visual essays. They’re cinematic love letters, cultural documents, grief capsules, and sometimes just chaotic brilliance wrapped in slow motion.

So here’s the update:

Yes, Art on Wax will absolutely continue to feature album covers alongside music videos. Because these visuals shaped the way we remember songs. They helped build the aesthetic language of entire eras. They gave us stories to hold onto when the lyrics alone couldn’t do it. And as I build this archive of thought, memory, and reflection through TBP, I want to honor all the forms Black expression takes. Especially the ones that don’t get enough credit for their emotional impact.

I’ll be writing about the ones that made us cry, the ones that made us feel seen, the ones that were too ridiculous to take seriously, and the ones that live in our heads even when we try to forget them. Some will be deep dives. Some will be funny. Some might just be me spiraling in real time.

If you’ve ever seen a video and thought, “This is too much, but also exactly what I needed,” then you’re in the right place. Thanks for continuing to read, feel, and process with me.

And yes. I still haven’t recovered from “I Miss You.”
But at least now I’m making it content.