I see Ben Folds for the first time in concert thanks to
my friend Heather.  I knew very little of his work, save
for Brick and The Luckiest.  Brick of course was 'a hit'
for lack of better words, and The Luckiest I had discovered
on the road trip to and from California the year before, from
my friend Steve.  Most unfortunately that song got dedicated
to the wrong person, and all the taint still hasn't worn off.

Anyway.  I even remember what I wore that night.  Jeans, black
chucks,  blue  tank top.  The show is general admission, and Heather,
Kelly, Steve and I pick our way across the main floor and wedge in
to a comfortable little corner.  Had we been anywhere else,
I'm not sure what might be different today.  Why?  Because
I was in a position to watch Ben's hands dance effortlessly
across those keys, whether it was a jazzy improv, a simple
beautiful melody, or he was just plain beating the shit out of them.

...and I was not the same after that.

"Now that's a pianist."  I remember saying to myself after the
show was over.  It took a while to sink in, but then all of a
sudden Mr. Folds waltzes into my life like a hurricane, throwing
the debris of my life around, rearranging.  Changing.  The next
week I found myself buying two of his albums.  The next, I had
nearly all of them.  By July, I had learned by ear nearly 20 songs.

I can't remember when I had my idea to make my entire second
CD a Ben tribute, but it had to be done.  It is the very least I
could do for someone who has taught and inspired me so utterly
and completely, and continues to do so every day of my life.

No joke.

So thank you, Ben, wherever you are out there.  Never stop jamming,
never stop being who you are.  How many other fans are there like
me out there, that owe you more than they could ever possibly give?

Thank you.