There’s a travel story I really love to tell. Before all of this started, I was in New York, dying for some kind of magical city experience on my last rainy night in town, but failing to find any plans. As a last effort, I walked into The Bitter End in Greenwich Village, where a guy in sweatpants and socks was putting on a stadium-sized show for a modest bar crowd. The guy was Steven Robertson, and I still think about that show all the time.
Listen to Roof Song by Steven Robertson below:
Steven just dropped his debut album, “Pure Wild”, and, while it’s full of amazing songwriting from start to finish, it’s “Roof Song” I have to talk about. It’s so pretty, it’s so vivid. It’s a movie you’ve seen a million times, where you can doze off and half-dream yourself into the story. The most gorgeous, fantastical, romantic vision of New York City you could ever imagine is just outside your window whenever this song is playing, and lyrics like “pulling on a cigarette, cross-legged on the wet roof” aren’t lyrics, they’re versions of feelings you’ve felt, turned into pictures, turned into sounds. They’re places you’ve been all your life that could never really exist.
Pulling on a cigarette, cross-legged on the wet roof
Laughing at a dumb joke, laying in my red room
Waiting just to drift off, dreaming all about you
Either way, I see you
Soon, soon, soon
Every time I hear “Roof Song” now, I remember a trip to New York that changes every time I think about it. Whenever I tell the story, the rain on Bleecker Street gets a little heavier, the wind turns a little colder, and the whole city takes on a color a little closer to how it sounds in “Roof Song”. And that’s fine by me.