I went to a show at the Sellersville Theater last night. My very first time there. As it is only thirty-five minutes from my house, I can’t help wondering why I haven’t visited this venue in the past. The place is, as the name suggests, a theater, with theater seats and cabaret-style tables up front by the stage. The acoustics are good and, for the little I know about such things, the sound people seem to know their sh…er, shtuff. Everyone working there (most of whom I suspect are volunteers) are friendly and knowledgeable. The theater possesses a wonderful atmosphere and there is a great restaurant right next door. Indeed, the Washington House is on my list to visit next.
Jesse Ruben opened for Tony Lucca. I only knew one of his songs from satellite radio, but when he started speaking and playing I knew I’d become a fan. Here was a witty, self-effacing talented man who took the audience through moments of his life in ways that made you laugh and think, followed by songs that did the same. One—“Different”—made me cry. It was a song about acceptance of the differences that make us unique, and yet the same, and the fact that we all deserve a chance, at love and at life. “We Can” was another such song, funny and tender, about the ability to overcome adversity, sadness, mediocrity, cruelty, together. At least that was the way I took it. I bought the crocheted bracelet pictured above, and am wearing it now. Those two words mean so much.
Next, Tony came out. I can’t leave him out of this little post. Every show with him is something different. Tony Lucca is a man of many faces, so to speak. A singer-songwriter who can treat the audience to soulful ballads like “Nobody But You” to hard-rocking delights like “Foxy Jane.” For the most part, last night was the latter, with the inclusion of certain songs I’ve been listening to lately in the acoustic form, but with a Tony-twist, an electric guitar, a great bass player and drummer, those tunes came across with a whole different flavor—like a kick of whiskey with the same burn through your veins.
I didn’t stick around long afterward. Both of these fine gentlemen had fans a-plenty waiting to speak with them (plus it was seriously past my bedtime, lol). Tony and I had a quick discussion about lack of time and I gave him a heartfelt hug before departing. He wouldn’t let me leave without asking if I enjoyed the show–as he always will of stranger and friend alike, wanting to make sure he’s given it his all. I told him the show was great.
I lied. It was fantastic. And I have both performers to thank for that.
robin maderich - write-brained scribbler and crafter-on-the-loose 