The plan was to see Paul Thorn perform at The Coach House in San Juan Capistrano, basically a night I wouldn’t normally write about.
Sean and I reached The Coach House early, of course. Sean’s idea of “on time” is five months early. So, we had some waiting to do. As I stood out there and smoked, this girl over on the other side of the lot, this frail looking waif, nondescript in the afterwork hours of my life, got out of a small car and carried in a guitar.
“She must be with the band,” Sean said.
I would have spent the rest of my life without a thought of her – but when she walked up onto the stage as Paul Thorn’s first opening act any chance of that happening ended.
As anyone, I don’t listen to women’s music – which is to say music by women. With the exception of “Be careful baby, be careful” by Dory Previn, no woman has every really touched me with her music.
And then, this amazement of a person walked onto the stage. A little much? Maybe. But there’s no way to explain how one person touches another. It’s love in a way, and there’s no explaining it.
Her name is Amber Rubarth. I’m telling you, she’s something uniquely special. You can find her on YouTube, iTunes, all over. I am listening to her second disk, Unfinished Art – Handmade Edition, right now.
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