Patrice Pike will light you on fire. With nothing more than her guitar and her musical partner in crime, Wayne Sutton seated to her side, Patrice Pike filled the stage at Poor David's Pub in Dallas on Saturday night. In a cropped black tank, colored jeans, and tall boots, Pike is one of those singers whom you simply can't take your eyes (or ears) away.
There's a little Sheryl Crow, a little Fleetwood Mac, a little Edie Brickell, and a little something fairylike that you just can't quite place in this sexy songstress who sings about love lost and found, and a world that is oft times too much with us all.
"There are two kinds of people in this world," Pike said. "People who talk to their exes and people who don't." Truer words were never spoken. It's a simple observation, perhaps, but also a painfully real one. That delineation is telling.
Throughout the evening, she sang music from her life as a solo artist as well as from her days in the band Sister Seven. She did several numbers while sitting on a Cajon, a drum that looks simply like a wooden box that originated in Jamaica and originally crafted from banana boxes. The lush, full sounds were enthralling.
As she performed crowd favorite "Jackknife Girl," it was hard not to think about how truly amazing what one girl and a guitar with one guy with a guitar can do. They filled the space with sounds as full and rich and inviting as any band five times their size.
Pike plays a riff repeatedly while spinning the tale of a broken down Winnebago and a borrowed truck with an illegal trailer attached and then sings the song she wrote about the adventure.
"Take care of each other. See each other through each other's eyes," she sings.
She tells the story of being robbed of her Cliff Bars and clothes while on the French Riviera and then meeting a man named Smooth who took her sailing on his yacht. They remained pen pals. She sings the song she wrote about the adventure.
Therefore, the evening goes, she tells as many tales as she sings songs and she is as delightful and charming as could be.
"I woke up and everything seemed crazy daffodils," she sings.
"It's not on the set list. But Wayne and I did it during sound check and I love this song. It's called 'Calling on Me,'" a song which she follows up with "Under the Radar." Each piece seems better, fuller, more than the last.
"Home was a place I never had for long. What's the point of belonging when you can't stay," she sings.
Sutton starts messing around on the guitar and before you know it, she's doing a badass version of "Highway to Hell." But then she admits she doesn't know the words. "This is how I know I'm going to heaven. I'm on the highway to purgatory," she teases. "This is a totally different song," she says before beginning the next, but in an analogous way the same song."
"It's no secret. I love you," she sings.
There is something altogether alluring about Pike and her music, her voice, the way she handles a guitar, the songs she pens, all of it. No wonder audiences have been becoming back for more year after year.
She played "Sweet November," the haunting "St. Louis's Balcony," "Kiss Me Baby," "Chico" and "Manhattan." And like too many shows, this one ended all too soon.
"Life is a trip. It's impermanent," Pike says as she thanks the audience and says good-bye. She tells a story about her niece, her Godchild, Cameron who has eight months to live unless they can find a bone marrow donor.
It's heartbreaking. Pike is right. Life is a trip, an impermanent one at that, which she knows all too well. Her lyrics shine with her understanding. Her music fills you. Patrice Pike will light you on fire.