Going ga-ga for Gray

At the start of the David Gray concert Saturday night at the Moore Theater, I felt ecstatic, excited and completely engrossed in the man and the music.

As I was in the center of the front row, leaning on the stage, I was in complete delight to see and hear one of my utter favorites perform.

David Gray did more than just sing. His specialty in songwriting is his strong emotional bond to the words and story. One can gauge his story of how he's struggled for financial recognition of his undeniable talent by listening to his words and reading between the lines.

Listening to the songs, especially the triumphant and uplifting "Please Forgive Me," which is off the White Ladder album, I was so enriched by my experience that I forgot about the meaningless details of life.

Time stopped.

The thousands of other fans disappeared. My reality was simply Gray, me and the music.

Witnessing such eloquence and compassion was alluring. The opportunity to see someone so immersed in his work and so delighted with the result was extremely powerful and inspiring. When I entered the Moore, I expected to see and hear his passion for music -- he convinced me of that. His aura refreshed my mind, body and soul with pure excitement, love and bliss. The music, riffs, chords and syllables (the British accent didn't hurt either!) pushed me over the edge of simple appreciation. I had become more than a basic fan, I was a serious fan.

If a musician can be so fulfilling, that says two things: primarily, that I was ready to be inspired by him, and secondly, he wears his undying love for music on his sleeve.

When he sings, you can't help but want to be taken on the ride. You want to be included in the story that he tells, because of the rich imagery and illusional potency, and I thank him for it.

Versatility is also within his range. He can sing soft emotional songs, and also break out with more raucous ballads, like how he closed with Led Zeppelin's "Black Dog."

I also thank him for playing the rock-star role so generously. When I waited for him to be whisked away in his "chariot" (a beastly blue van driven by the opening act Charlie Bradshaw), he didn't have to give me an autograph. He didn't have to pose for pictures with his fans. He didn't have to entertain the declarations of "Oh, I love you! You're so cute!" from the adoring female fans, so easily wooed by his boyish grin. But he was enchanted to.

White Ladder is the beginner course in David Gray-ology; it gives the beginner a taste of his work. Lost Songs is another good starter -- more raw, acoustic and breathtakingly good. To satisfy further exploration of this artist's material, his other albums ring with the same purity that can only be classified as David Gray. Don't categorize him; listen to him.

If my accounts of this artist's greatness aren't enough to make you curious about his material, don't take my word for it.

Give him a listen.

He can and does speak for himself through his music.