Magic of the Irish

All the planning, preparation, rehearsal and endless promoting comes down to this moment:

When the scene is set, the audience is hushed, the lights are down,
and everybody’s waiting for me to come out and hold the musical space for them.

I love the few quiet moments before a concert. I’m alone with my plans, only I know how it will all come together. The Band has rehearsed for weeks, Megan has been dancing to her recordings, I’ve been talking about the concert on my website, on the radio, in the newspaper. But I’m the only one with the master plan, and that small bit of time when I allow the anticipation to build before I walk out on stage is so full of possibility. I revel in it.

Last night's concert was magical. First Presbyterian Church and I have set quite the tradition for a St. Patrick’s Day celebration – they hold a hearty corned beef and cabbage dinner, and I give a concert afterward. The church always smells so good when I arrive to set up (and it’s too bad I can never eat before I perform, because I would definitely indulge in this stuff).

The concert was one of our best, if not our best, ever.

The Band and I felt like one instrument. Megan danced with so much joyful bounce. We were all smiles after the last song.

That the crowd decided to stand up and clap for us was an added bonus.
I was so happy I started clapping, too.

And then they all stood there. And stood there. So I surprised myself by making the offer — “Who wants to hear Danny Boy?” Evidently everybody, from the sounds of the clapping. It was the first time I had ever sung AND played Danny Boy in public. Usually, I let somebody else hit those high notes and I just play along. I looked up before the final chord and saw misty eyes, brothers holding hands, children nodding off on their parents’ shoulders.

I love my job.

(special thanks to my good friends Tim & Liz for taking these photos)