This content was originally published by the Longmont Observer and is licensed under a Creative Commons license.
Teresa Storch, along with right-hand man Peter Lacis, lit up the last night of summer with a fiery set at The Roost.
A two hour set by the Longmont folks had patrons torn between sports and music, and it was hard; as hard as the wood-slabbed floor, to cold shoulder the latter. The wood-slabbed floor was made for boot stompin’. Some viewers chose to make use of this, and some decided to swing and sway to the high-spirited folk-country emanating from the stage.
Songs like, “Constant Stream of Concrete,” lifted the mind away with energy. The bull necked power of Teresa’s vocals only raised the self-propelling lyrics higher with phrasings like, “I am driving in my car, feel the sunshine on my arm, watching mountains, rolling over on and on… Take me out of this city, ‘cause I just wanna drive, and feel the constant stream of concrete underneath my tires.”
Built-in guitar holders holding guitars lined the back of the tucked up stage. Compared to the size of the room there was a landing strip of a bar on the opposite side. The room, full of energetic buzz, was big enough to carry sound, but small enough to be a pint-sized surrounding. Waiters swam through the sea of tall tables to hand off plates of food, cold beers, and bills slid into random used books like The One and Only Ivan and The Court of the Stone Children. Picnic table pews of solid wood fenced the front of the stage.
A single large scarf decorated the angled mic stand like a sandpapered-down Steven Tyler was about to sing into it. Teresa then informed the crowd that she was a child of the 80s, she had to play a cover song, so she broke into a rendition of “We Belong,” that would make any Pat Benatar fan sing along.
Joking and mingling opened up between songs, casual and folksy, like the duo had done this a million times before in your living room. Addressing their relationship status and species, Lacis joked, “We’re a couple… of people.” The twosome were one in the same as the patrons, as if they were all just enjoying a beer with their friends, but the only substantial fluctuation of sentiment was she was singing for the rafters, spilling her heart out song by song.
Later in the night, Teresa told a story about a person in-passing from her past. Abigail was her name, Teresa was a busker in Boston at Harvard Square for a while, and wrote an upbeat warmhearted piece on their brief encounter. She sang of the experience, “She wrote a note to thank me for the music but she could not spell her name.” The narrative kicked up piece by piece with lines like, “‘I was shy once, just like you’” it was the best that I could say, Hoping she would understand that she wouldn’t always feel this way.”
They closed out the night as potent as they started. The gracious crowd clapped for the terrific performance as they bowed. Then they stepped off stage and blended in with all the other beer drinkers.
