Holy Shit, It’s Sterling Witt: The Birth of the Artisan

Last Friday night saw the culmination of seven months of pent-up artistic frustration. At around 6 p.m., local singer-songwriter Sterling Witt, clad in a women’s blouse, arrived at the sidewalk outside The Pitch office to retaliate against an accurate — sorry, unjust and cruel — review that I, Jason Harper, had written of his latest album, Sea Things, this past March.