There's a giant intellect hammering away inside the slim form of Charles Smith. Angelic troubadour on display along with the other old world instruments merrily pinging small hammers, filling our entrance into the studio theater with a birdsong of lilting, sweet thrumming. Warming up, his delicate, precise hands nevertheless apparently sometimes hit the wrong keys...as his face will tell you. Grimace, eyes widening, a shrug, slight sigh...begin again. The performance is already afoot as I can see personality at play and in connection with his instrument.