That Perfect Imperfect Show

November 1, 2017.  Iron &Wine at the Kessler Theater in Dallas. 

Upstairs in the balcony, I sat nestled into the seat closest to and overlooking the stage, a mere tiny stone's throw from Sam Beam down below (though I'd never dare throw a stone at him).

I was transfixed.  Enamored.  Stunned to my core in the most beautiful way.  And when the lights dimmed, I felt all the space around me tunnel down toward the stage so that I noticed nothing else.  My body pains melted away.  The warm air felt temperature-less.  My tickly throat quieted itself.  I won't lie, some warm tears fell from time to time, and I noticed those as I let them run down where they may or occasionally wiped them away.  But my focus was intense, drawn, pulled, targeted.  It's amazing how physical sensations drop away when the spiritual is tapped into.  Occasionally, my gaze would drift elsewhere--to other band members or to the crowd--but then my mind would jump in and abruptly fix my eyes back on Sam because I wanted to be sure to soak up every single visual moment I could and didn't want to waste my eyes' unique ability to absorb on anything else.

Strings on various instruments popped with a twang during the performance.  And Sam's guitars weren't tuning properly, and I think I heard him say his capo was broken.  And he said fuck a lot when things wouldn't go right, but always in the most charming way.  And certain guitars didn't want to play the set list they had planned, so Sam said.  So he improvised and played whatever he felt like playing, which I'm thankful for after seeing the set list online and comparing it to my memory.  That's how Jezebel ended up being played.  And a cool song about Texas (which he said was NOT entitled "Texas Is Awesome" because that would be a stupid song).  So there was more heart all the way around because he got to play what the moment told him to play.  (There's a larger lesson there, I'm pretty sure.)

This video shows Sam talking about the mishaps.  But they made the performance more intimately perfect for the imperfections.

And here's one more mishap clip just for fun:

 The most straight up perfect moment of the show was the opening song.  THIS:

*DISCLAIMER... So I THINK I was able to sufficiently trim this video to fit in the Blogger parameters.  So, enjoy (hopefully) most of the song.   But because I had to trim it to get it to fit here, if you want to see the *almost* entire performance of The Trapeze Swinger (and the attendant chills and goosebumps that go with that; you should probably sit down), you'll have to just go visit my Facebook page instead where I posted it on November 2.*

And yet another imperfection: Sam refused to play Such Great Heights, despite the vast multitude excitedly chanting and calling from the darkened crowd for him to play it as an encore.  Instead of playing that song, here's what he gave us instead before playing a different final song:

So Sam left us all with a pretty grand humdinger of an intentional imperfection, so we'd have something to look forward to for next time (except for the girl who said she'd just listen to it in the car on the way home... certainly not the same as Sam playing it live... but I listened to it later, too, of course, to get my fix... it really does feel like an intense addiction that just isn't ever sated).  Next time, Sam.  Next time.  I mean it.  But, in truth, the imperfections are where so much of the beauty waits, hiding, smiling its secret smile.  To be mulled over and appreciated again and again as the music, his voice, those words all still stream in my mind, now days later, on repeat... on repeat... on repeat.  And still leaves me so thirsty for more.