There’s just something about David Roth. He saunters onto the stage and begins telling stories in song and in no time at all, we feel like we’ve known him forever.
He’s honest. Open. Candid. He’s also fall down funny. He calls one on himself at every opportunity, all from a place of confidence in the human spirit, quietly implanting the idea in our hearts and souls that surely (and why not start now) — there’s more of us that can come out to play.
I walked away from David’s concert a better person. Corny? For sure. Still, it’s true. I became a better person — more myself, more able, more true to who I am — all by listening to David Roth sing and tell stories.
All evening, he simply shared himself, song after song. How simple is that?
His confidence with the guitar and piano came over us like a soft, happy wave washing out our long day, the cares and worries we may have brought with us, the struggles or tiredness we may have carried into the room.
His instruments are clearly long-time friends and partners. He often “warms up” on the guitar as he is introducing a song. I’m not sure why I love that part so much, but I pretty much melted any time he was strumming, tuning and finding chords as he was speaking. He has a deliciously gentle way of inviting us into his stories.
And then there is David’s “presence factor.” He’s just there, playing and singing and talking, weaving intricate stories about life, rambling on about an event from his past, and finally catching us with a surprise curve ball as the musical story is falling effortlessly from his fingers. When he throws a strike (and he’s a very good pitcher), you can hear the funny bones in the room crack open, hearts melting, minds saying “hmmmm….”.
The audience last night was palpably awake. Personally speaking, miracle of miracles, my mind never wandered. That’s quite a service to humanity in itself — to give us a mental vacation from all we’ve been doing and thinking and feeling — and visit the creative world of David Roth for a little while. It wasn’t the kind of music where you say to yourself, “Gee, that’s pretty, that’s beautiful, what a nice performance” — while yawning a bit inside, and thinking about tomorrow.
Last night when David sang, we paid attention. We hung on every word. We wondered what the next line would be — couldn’t wait to hear it. And where could he could possibly be going with this story of his?
The best part of all? When we “got there,” the journey was more than worth it. Thanks, David. Like you said, “practice makes progress.”