David Wilcox….in concert.

The first time I heard David Wilcox, I was at a friend’s house in the mountains up in Weaverville, enjoying dinner….wondering who we were listening to on their little boombox….who it was who was playing music inside that little plastic cassette tape.

When I asked “Who is that?” my friends told me that it was David Wilcox.

Sometimes I hear somebody who must resonate with my spirit or something….simpatico.

David Wilcox was like that.

Now, I’ve listened to him for so long that he almost seems common to me….no longer some mysterious discovery….not something new anymore.

But, really, it’s always something new.

It’s the talking in between the familiar songs that gets me now….the new commentary on something that I’ve heard a million times that surprises me….that reminds me that these songs have been important to me.

Thinking about that “common” comment….something amazing….something amazing and consistent….is easy to take for granted.

I don’t know how you sustain appreciation.

David Wilcox has been around for a while now…like me.

What a nice (small) part of my life he’s been.

About Peter Rorvig

I'm a non-practicing artist, a mailman, a husband, a father...not listed in order of importance. I believe that things can always get better....and that things are usually better than we think.

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