Holy Shit, It's Sterling Witt: The Birth of the Artisan
Last Friday night saw the culmination of seven months of pent-up artistic frustration. At around 6 p.m., local singer-songwriter Sterling Witt, clad in a women's blouse, arrived at the sidewalk outside The Pitch office to retaliate against an accurate -- sorry, unjust and cruel -- review that I, Jason Harper, had written of his latest album, Sea Things, this past March.
I now see how wrong I was. Sterling Witt is not merely a crafter of nautical knicknacks and forgettable acoustic-guitar-based love songs. He is a man of passion. An artist. A protester. A true folk hero. The way that he sings carries the tradition that Christ himself started when he cried out "Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani!?" ("My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?") before he died upon the cross. In fact, I don't think it's appropriate to continue referring to Sterling Witt as just Sterling Witt. Henceforth, he shall be known as the Artisan.
Wearing in penance the Artisan's T-shirt upon my back, I shall go forth proclaiming His greatness to all of creation. But first I must devise a symbol, a brand that I may burn into door frames and on the palms of infants.
This shall be that brand.
Long live the Artisan!
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