I am wildly late to the Apple TV documentary Beastie Boys Story. Like, five-years-late late. But in my defense, I am currently living out my Word of the Year, that of  Reclaim, which apparently includes reclaiming the things I loved before adulthood, responsibility, and calendars with too many boxes hijacked my attention.

So yes. I just watched it now. And honestly? Perfect timing.

I loved the Beastie Boys when I was younger, though I don’t think I fully knew why. I just knew they felt familiar. Loud but smart. Funny but serious. New York through and through. Watching the documentary now, with more years behind me and fewer illusions about who I am, I get it better.

What struck me most was the sentimentality. Not in a cheesy way, but in a we lived, we learned, we stayed friends way. These were guys who wanted to be in a band, yes. But more than that, they wanted to be friends. They loved New York. They loved walking to the deli. They loved inside jokes and shared history. That mattered as much as the music.

Adam Yauch wanted to be funny and he was. Quirky. Offbeat. Smart in a way that didn’t always announce itself. That part landed hard for me. I love laughing. I love being a little “off-filter”. I love humor that sneaks up on you. Watching him felt like watching someone who understood that being funny isn’t frivolous. It’s connective tissue. I live that sentiment.

What I appreciated most, though, was their willingness to grow up out loud. They didn’t pretend they got everything right. They acknowledged where they messed up, especially in how they treated Kate Schellenbach, who was originally part of the Beastie Boys and was quietly, unceremoniously dropped. Ghosted before ghosting was a thing. It was uncomfortable. And important.

And here’s the thing, Kate went on to become an accomplished American musician and television producer. So there’s that. Life is long. Stories don’t end where we think they do.

An interesting moment in the film comes when Mike D recounts an interviewer challenging Ad-Rock about hypocrisy. The interviewer had questioned how could the guys who made Licensed to Ill later make a song calling out street harassment? Ad-Rock’s response? I’d rather be a hypocrite than be the same person forever.

That line caught me.

Because that’s it. That’s the work. Growth is allowed. Evolution is not betrayal. We don’t owe the world consistency if consistency means staying small or wrong or frozen in time.

They grew up. They changed. One passed away. And together, they left a mark. Not just musically, but humanly.

Watching the documentary now (several years past its release)  felt like returning to something familiar and realizing it had been quietly shaping me all along. Humor. Friendship. Accountability. New York. Evolution. Quirk with heart.

Late to the party? Sure.
But sometimes reclaiming means arriving exactly when you’re ready to understand why something mattered in the first place.