![]() You'd think pushing math into the realm of metaphysics would be all-consuming, but Keel's always been writing creatively, encouraged by his mother since he was a child. There’s an almost religious zeal in his reverence for the small things, as if you could put up a magnifying glass to a softball and see the whole universe. "This theory," he explains, "is one of the leading candidates to replace superstring theory as the unified field theory." Specifically, his field of study is the nine-dimensional Calabi-Yau manifold. "My music isn't very well-known," he says, "but my work in math is quite well-known, to an admittedly small crowd." If you Google "Sean Keel live," the first three videos that come up are lectures about a subject where algebraic geometry informs applications in theoretical physics. Sean Keel has been a research professor of mathematics at the University of Texas since 1989. He's only played a full set once before, "and I don't think I will again." He also finds it difficult to play guitar without his orthopedic chair for more than a few minutes. "I find it difficult to sing more than three songs in a row," he says. Keel has presbyphonia, a thinning of the vocal cords, which he compares to permanent laryngitis. Some of those in attendance are considering getting a Realtor's license because if a guy this good is still playing open mics, what chance do they have?īut Keel didn't even pick up a guitar until he was 45, as something to do because he couldn't play sports, especially his beloved hockey, like he used to.Īnd he can't play concerts. Once they've been playing guitar for years, most people forget how to play with such sincerity. The more industrious eyes are trained on Keel's hands, to watch and learn. What I hoped would be his wallet was just chewĬheatham's rapt. ![]() We went fishing through his pockets, found the keys to the truck Keel plays another original, reminiscent of Tom Waits at his most wistful and sentimental: "Soup Line," the story of a youthful misadventure that started after his father had passed out. When Keel sings that the " corn palace will save this town," you know it didn't. Taken from the name of a real small-town attraction that failed, "Corn Palace" is an ode to decay, an elegy for the Southern Minnesota farming community of Keel's youth. Revival must be over, the tents are coming down I haven't known for years where you are, and I'm not asking Stretching wings as white as wedding gowns ![]() Plastic bags are catching wind, they're dancing It's a voice that's seen empires rise and fall. There's a deep struggle in his voice, which sounds older than his 60 years. Gingerly, he sits down, holding his steel string acoustic angled vertically like a classical guitarist.įrom the moment he starts to sing, the room of fresh-eyed beginners, peppered with a few veterans and hobbyists, leans in. Wednesday is Song Circle Night at Cheatham Street Warehouse in San Marcos – a nice way of saying "open mic." There are about a dozen songwriters waiting to go on, and one of them is an older man who kisses his wife, leaves a drink on the wooden spool table and walks on stage with the slight huddling of a retired athlete. Rusting dinosaur: UT mathematics research professor and spellbinding songwriter Sean Keel (Photo by Lukas Keel)
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