Patiently. The song that started it all. And yet most people have never heard it. It wasn't even meant to be a single. It was an experiment. A test. A quiet moment to see if two people, Steve Perry and Neal Schon, could connect.
They wrote Patiently before Steve was even in the band. And for some reason, luckily, it worked. If it hadn't, the journey might have ended.
Patiently — Midnight Special, 1978
When I first watched this performance, I didn't recognize him. A skinny guy with long hair and soft brown eyes steps up to the mic. Shyly, like he's asking for permission.
Can I sing for you now?
An open blouse with poofy sleeves. Tight white pants that should be illegal. An angel floating in from another realm just to sing a little.
As he clutches the mic stand like it's the only thing that's keeping him grounded, I realize.
This is the man before.
Schon opens with a soft guitar intro. He looks young, groovy. The afro is enormous. The vibe is serious but comfortable. He's already been through the machine. He knows who he is on stage.
He almost nods to Steve to begin.
"Here I stand... so patiently..."
Eyes closed. The voice? Unbelievable. Clear, pure, effortless.
This is a version of Perry's voice I hadn't heard before. I didn't know he could sound like this.
One in a Million
Midway through, the song picks up. And he's having fun. You see him grimace, playfully, singing "one in a million" like he's beginning to loosen up.
The stage presence isn't quite there. There's some awkward dancing. A kick here, a bounce there. He doesn't quite know what to do with his body.
But none of that matters. Because the voice — the voice is there.
And if you watch closely, you can see the blueprint forming. The phrasing. The head tilt. The way he lives inside the lyrics. The way his voice cuts clearly above the guitars.
And he looks so young. He's 29 but could be 20. The relentless touring, the pressure, the performing hasn't worn him down. Not yet. He looks energized, happy, hopeful.
It might be the purest version of Steve Perry ever recorded. Just a man, patiently waiting to make it, with no idea how much it's going to cost him.
A shy smile as he holds the last note. The audience applauds. He grips the mic stand as he looks out into the crowd and quietly says:
"Thank you."
One Year Later — Midnight Special, 1979
Same show. Such a different feel.
The band is lip-syncing this time. It's unthinkable, really, for a group that believed in being authentic. Everything feels slicker, overproduced. There's a lot more makeup and polish.
And Steve? He's changed.
He's confident now. Or trying to be. He moves like someone who knows he's supposed to be the frontman, the sex symbol, the brand. He's performing now, not just singing.
That shy performer from 1978? He's gone. It all happened so fast.
