Thursday, August 11
Cheapside; 131 Cheapside. 9 P.M.
Ben Lacy’s guitar prowess is such that many who hear him play experience an extreme emotional response as a result, such as intense crying jags, fits of cackling laughter, alternating terror and ecstasy—that sort of thing. Attending his performances thus feels a bit like staring into the face of God; you’re overcome with awe, your senses explode and then dim forever, and you end up drooling in a ditch, unresponsive to stimuli.
And that’s why Ben Lacy needs a new name. I mean, “Ben Lacy” is a perfectly pleasant moniker: “Ben” is a welcoming word, similar to the French “bien” and “bon,” and evocative of the Sanskrit root “bhanu,” the Sun, while “Lacy” is a seductive, Latinate thing. When you hear them together you think, oh, he’s a really nice guy, I bet, and you probably smile and think about your loved ones, and of hugging them. Mm.