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You know, when you take out the theatrics, the commercialization, the "show", and break music down to what it is suppose to be, rooted, enjoyable, a vibe of energy on its own transmitting throughout all who are listening, what do you get???
Yes, I said it. I will stand up to that statement until someone proves me wrong. I have been to more concerts than the average person. Few concerts to some. Yes, the name bands have music on the radio and can play it in concert with lights, theatrics, and an ensemble of everything you can think of. However, strip it down to what music is to each of us, and The Steepwater Band comes out on top.
Each of these guys, artists, craftsmen, are genuinely blessed with talent. There is nothing my photography can show you. You have to see it for yourself to believe. Please go find your belief!!
Each member of The Steepwater Band are equal, a unit, a mass in motion, a gel that one cannot pull away from by himself. But with the others, the unit, the band, they take it to where no band has gone before. I truly believe that.
Though I may show you more photos of one artist than another, this in no way reflects how this band functions because they are one musical note, complex, individualistic, and integral. What my photos do show is my photography improvement, and need for continual improvement.
Here is your Chicago House of Blues lineup for the evening . . .
A big thanks to Miles Nielsen & The Rusted Hearts, and to Magic Box. If it was not for you, the evening would not have turned out as great for me as it did. So with that, lets start the photos with Magic Box who opened for us. THANK YOU from The Steepwater Fans!!!!
The fun does not stop until the drummer says so. Joe Winters is great. He knows how to flirt with the audience. He teases us with his energy, drive, the need to finish . . . when HE is ready to finish. When the vibe shifted from the band to Joe to close us out, Joe basically responded, okay . . . one more burst of energy though . . . leave it all on the stage. Once he lit it, the adrenalin in the fans went to a new high, like a second orgasm. Joe hung it out there, sticks against skins, to the point even he could not take it, then he closed. Wow . . .