ben howard

words are wholly unable to describe the experience. i was right there, close enough to see the sweat forming on his forehead and the muscles in his back flex when he stood and played with his face towards his drummer. close enough to see clearly his hands as they flew back and forth between the strings and the hollow thump on the guitar side. close enough that the hand motions were all blur- so so fast. i was undone, by this beauty. he closed his eyes so i did too. let that wash over. the emotion, the hum, the harmony, the base line that hits your chest and grabs your breath.
i don't know why i am so inspired, so moved, so captured, but i could have listened all night long to that. i don't know why or how but from the first moment i heard diamonds in starbucks that easter morning before daylight, i was sold. and then i heard old pine, the very essence of my beloved summertime. and then, keep your head up, and the lyrics captured moments of mine in such a beautiful and previously unseen way. and on and on.
and some people, when they let the world in on the art they are making, have this effect. as we watch, we gasp and sigh. we get caught up. and these are the rarest of moments- the moments when we long to be drowned out. we don't want to hear our own voices; we merely want to enter into and become part of the river of life rippling and surging around. in that room, in that moment, we were all captured and wrapped up into something bigger than ourselves and it was beautiful, and being lost in the crowd--but in that more alive than ever--is what we live for.

thanks, ben.