Love in Soundwaves

Tonight was the third time I've visited the Jerome Greene Space, wnyc's relatively new performance space and sound stage that invites its virtual community of empassioned listeners to sit with each other, intimately nestled and infinitely bound by a common thread. I have gone alone, I have gone with someone special. Regardless, I always leave full of love, and when I say that I mean l, o, v, e - spelled out in full, brimming with that transcending buzzz we all feel when something is good, solid, real.

I felt that to an elevated degree standing there swaying, tears rolling down my face as I watched the unworldly beauty, Amel Larrieux, spread her special strain of the l word - whole and honest, literally lighting up the room. I must say, I have had many a girl crush but this one is my most severe, sweet and severe. Her light is...indescribable. I have said this many times about performers I have witnessed live at spaces as intimate as the Greene - it's one thing to hear a record, another thing all together to see the artist perform and see what they put their bodies through to make their sound. To see them feeling, ingesting and then projecting the emotion behind their riffs, their lyrics. These are their proclamations, unique and special, served up to you right there. And, when they're good, you feel so blessed to just be there.

I respect Amel so much for how she lives her life. It's funny to say that because I don't know her. I don't know how she walks through this universe and conducts her everyday business. But I can say that she does it with love. There wasn't a dry face or a flat groin in the place. Sorry for my crudeness, but it's the damn truth. This woman was...love, light. She invited us to take part and we leapt, entranced and eager to return the feeling.

Tonight I wanted to share one of my favorite tracks - one that she dedicated this evening to a lover who she once saw the world in. Someone who, in the end, didn't even have the map. How appropriate. I swayed and listened to those words, knowing they'd be my last saccharine homage to the lost one. Alas, I can't find that song to share with you. Instead I found this one. A prayer for the future. Thank you, Amel.