Sam Baker

I was given the nod to a gig tonight, to hear Sam Baker play. I have to admit that I did not know the name, nor his music until a few weeks ago. My mate Rogan insisted I come with him and I totally trust his judgement. It proved to be a brilliant evening. His songs work their way into your soul. I've been listening to his latest CD over the last few days and his words were already in resonating in my head before the performance. I like to be warmed up like that.

Sam is from Austin, Texas, with a drawl to match and a way of making droll asides to the audience that is very endearing. There was just one set, no interval, and he doesn't indulge in encores. His songs are spare, his beautiful, poignant lyrics more spoken than sung. It was mesmerising. This is music as storytelling. 

He shouldn't be alive. He is an extraordinary man with an extraordinary story. In 1986, he was travelling by train to Machu Picchu in Peru when a bomb placed on a luggage rack above his head by the Shining Path guerrilla group exploded, killing seven other passengers including the three people he had been sitting with. He was left with brain damage, a cut artery, and blown-in eardrums. His injuries required seventeen reconstructive surgeries. He has a constant case of tinnitus. He managed to retain enough dexterity to grasp a guitar pick and over time, re-taught himself to play his guitar left-handed. His music is a product of his suffering, not that it's left him bitter. He said tonight that the world is run by good. He celebrates that goodness. He's an inspiration. 

Broken Fingers