I saw him at the Aragon in Chicago. October 17, 1997. A relatively small club for such a huge presence. It was the “Earthling” tour.

He walked out on stage, and filled every empty space in the room. Relaxed, casually elegant, and having a blast. That voice surrounded you; enveloped you, alternating between a caress and a chill running up your spine.

Between songs, he talked to you. All of you. As a mass but somehow individually, as if you were sitting across a table, just the two of you.

By the end of the performance,  which I prayed would never come, I was aware of two things.

I had seen something that would never leave me. I had seen art; magic pulled from the ether, formed into sight and sound in front of my eyes. No matter how many times I had heard the songs, that moment became the first time.

And I was aware that the man twenty feet away from me, performing that magic, was a creature unlike any other, and was loving every second of the evening. And remarkably I felt loved. The audience as a group,  but like those conversations between songs, I was loved by this amazing creature of light, sound, poetry, grace, and beauty.

I am so fortunate. I was in the same room with him.