Monday, December 7, 2009

Dave Rawlings Machine (and Gillian Welch)

Eyes wide open, all watching him on stage smiling with his eyes closed. He dances and strums, sings, and smiles. A vision of happiness, unaware of the spectacular spell he has cast on the crowd. His knees buckle with each strum of the banjo and strain of his voice, unafraid of hitting the ground, his guitar neck holds him up, like a marionette he dances by the chords of the song.

Sunday gospel in a passionately beat-up club, beautiful wooden walls, a timeless stage draped in black velvet, denim shirts, red neck ties, banjos, violins and whiskey.