A Night at the Starlight

I’m in awe.

Last night I finally went to see Troy perform at Starlight, and it was revelatory. He’s been playing there every Thursday night in June and July, and since last night was the final gig, I figured it was time for me to see that swingin’ hep-cat perform. Wow. His voice is velvety, or like rippling cream, or both, and he can hit those high notes like a bell. He’s got great stage presence, with droll wit on the one hand and self-deprecating charm on the other. He won me over when he told us that his mother — who was in the audience — had come into town and had bought him an air conditioner. Cute.

Fortunately, I got there early and was able to get a stool. Standing next to me was a couple (a straight couple — I forgot they have those in New York) who consider themselves to be some of his groupies. They’ve been fans of his for five years. And the lounge was filled with people who obviously love him, coming back week after week. Understandably so.

Sparky and Michael and David and Jonathan were there, too.

Troy, Troy, Troy. You rock. And swing. And schmooze. And perform. And write terrific music and lyrics.

Oh, what am I trying to say? I’m not doing him justice. I’ve never been good at reviewing. He’s just wonderful. Before a song, he patters with witty understated irony, and then he starts to sing and winds up tapping directly into your veins.

Actually, that makes him sound like Count Dracula. But again, I’ve never been good at reviewing.

Go see him.
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