i was not sure what to expect last night. a whole band? just sam? what songs? bertram asked me what i would love to see him play and i honestly did not care. it seems no matter what he would play, we would be satsified. as we walked up the stairs into the swedish american music hall, we found ourselves in a quaint hall, with wood patterned panels along the walls. it could only fit maybe fifty or so people. this must be something special. i think we both knew, but we didn't speak a word of it.
there was only one chair on stage after the first band. the room glowed red as the lights lowered on the dark wood of the floors and walls. sam walked to the stage with cheers and clapping that faded into a deep silence as he began. he was so genuinely appreciative of the crowd and said thank you with a warmth that must be from the south.
weeks before, the audience had voted on the set list for the night and sam laughed at what once seemed like a good idea. each song he played felt too short. sam's voice would fade into the room and as each song passed over, you hoped that it wouldn't end. he had a charm that is seen in the american folklore and imagery of each of his songs. he would laugh when he missed a note. completely unashamed, the mistakes did not hamper his performance but added to the intimacy of the night. it was like your best friend playing a collection of his favorite songs. the ones everyone knows. sam beam's voice never strains. it whispers, but yet he is never short of power. the crowd would trade jokes and requests with sam, but no one said a word while he played. when you watch someone who may become one of our generation's greatest songwriters, you hold your breath and exhale in between songs.
