My friend Micah debuted his new album in his living room last Friday. He started performing to the rhythm of our feet. We pounded the floor; he spoke of lightening. He strummed his guitar; he spoke of redemption. These were "Songs of Love..." if we were listening.
The new album comprised story, analogy, history, melancholy, and a tribute to resurrection. Thoughtfully composed and meticulously practiced, the album was grand. Micah used a capo and finger picked. He tapped his toes and closed his eyes. He got into it.
His wife Nicole complimented the evening with her own notes of love (..if we were eating). Warm brie with strawberry jam filling, freshly baked bread and Nutella, coffee and cold beverages, and glasses and plates adorned the table. She got into it.
Fourteen bodies pressed together. We ate. We clapped. We commented. We laughed. We supported our friend. We got into it.
In a world full of crowded concert halls and compressed midi files, it is refreshing to sit in a room with real people, food, and music. It is a foretaste of heaven...if we're looking.