So with a digestive system full of turducken, I made my way over to the Waiting Room and witnessed one incredibly crisp performance. Wilson took to the stage without a backing band and played a set full of songs that were as timeless as black and white photographs.
As Sondre Lerche went on stage, I spotted Wilson standing off to the side near a big window that looks out on Maple St. I went over to shake his hand, and he was gracious enough to engage me in conversation for a few minutes. I let him know that I had been playing some of songs for my first grade students and that they loved his music, which made him smile. I thanked him for his music, shook his hand, and left.
As I walked to my car, I thought about how I could have stayed home that night. Instead, I went out and caught a show that was an education on what every songwriter strives for--making music that is the soundtrack other people make their memories to.
*For those of you wondering about the claim I made at the end of the first paragraph, check out the second verse of Singing In My Sleep by Semisonic