There is something magic about music when it’s played live. When you witness firsthand the creation of something that, while similar to recorded material you know and love, is at the same time fresh – unique, never to be replicated in quite the same way.
Last night I had the privilege of hearing, for the first time, Krista Detor play live. And not in a large room or an outdoor venue – in the cozy confines of a recording studio at Evanston SPACE. In such intimate surroundings, true artists shine – it’s a venue for nuance, and feeling, and interplay – not only between band members on stage, but between the performers and all forty of us who managed somehow to comfortably share this tight space.
What an evening it was. From my vantage point no more than six feet from Krista and her keyboard, I could observe her style of playing piano – a gentle touch, fingers almost caressing each key – and see the look in her eyes as she perhaps remembered the inspiration behind the lyrics, even after singing them hundreds of times.
Accompanied deftly and expertly by bassist Mike Lindauer and guitarist/husband David Weber, Krista breathed new life into every song, leading those gathered through love found and lost and adventures begun and endured. A highlight of the evening was Krista’s performance of a new song written as part of a foray into music theater, sung from the perspective of Picasso’s (square-headed) muse, twenty years after having been painted. Krista’s witty yet wistful lyrics and delightfully over-the-top performance had her audience ping-ponging between uproarious laughter and nods of empathy with her character.
It was an evening to remember – and one that we all will for years to come.