I saw Sujay playing this small pizza place in Baltimore a little over a month ago. He sat in a suit and a low folding chair next to a mirrored wall, separated from the bustling restaurant by an empty wooden dance floor. He crooned with a soft strength, unphased by being ignored, like he was singing for a previous generation of ghost memories dancing ballroom in front of him. Memories of train stations, wide-brimmed hats, fried chicken with bones, huddling around a radio, and wounded doves. Singing gently, "what will these pizza patrons ever know, little dove, of love?"
Sujay Pathak - Cucurrucucu Paloma (mp3)