When Steve performs, the world comes right.
For Steve is an illusionist of the highest order. He’s like reading Scott Fitzgerald in high school. Although we are not in the social world of the 1930’s, we know nevertheless it is the way to be and to live. We go to a party on the water, where the world is not just one of wealth and status, but wordplay and word joy, melody and lyric and rhyme, gaiety and glamour, cocktails and cleverly convincing charm, sleek physiques and sharp, summer whites. So complete is the illusion that even though we were never there, we feel we have returned. We are in the heights of the heights, free to yearn and hope and live, insulated and protected for a night or a week or a summer from the danger, the hurt and the wolf at the door.
This is the gift of Steve Ross. There will never be another.