Even in the Replay, which is generally (but not always) home to leather-clad, crusty rockers, he will melt hearts with his heavenly voice on high. Saturday night was a particularly miserable time, as the revelers were shivering, with rain dripping off their leather jackets and splashing onto their saturated boots. But here was Calvin, hot and teeming with rich experience right off of a weeks-long European tour, singing Britney Spears.
Everyone just became a puddle, a big marshmallow. They doted on Calvin’s ability to find beauty in the absurd, and the space between their backs and the chairs got smaller. He was melancholy, he was joyful. We laughed, we cried, and we were half-tempted to send him into the Middle East for Palestinian-Israeli peace negotiations. Because, really, if he can get a bunch of rockers to enjoy a Britney Spears cover on a harp, what can’t he do.