The Show Must Go On!!

It's still in me. I haven't performed in a band for too many years now. Yes, I have done theatre in the interim to keep my sanity and need to perform in check, but the musical stage has been empty of me for a while. Yet, it is still in me. The show must go on. Doesn't matter about the weather or if you are sick, you have a gig to make, and that's that. So it was last night with Shelby Lynne, one of my favorite performers. She was playing the Space last night in Evanston.

As the snow started accumulating, I started calling to see if the concert was being canceled or postponed. Nope, she had made it here from Bloomington, IL and she was ready. When the venue didn't post any info on their web site, I actually posted to Shelby's Facebook wall asking if she was still performing!! She actually answered! Wow, social media in action here!

So instead of driving to Evanston (side note: The Space is a great musical venue! Acoustics, ambiance, nice stage - great space!) it was suggested that I take the train there. Which ended up being a really good decision. She performed to a really small audience who, like me, for whatever their own reason also trailblazed it over there to hear some really great music on a really arctic night.

It was her and another guitarist performing an intimate evening of a smattering of her music over the years. I sat there, had a glass on wine ( or two maybe), closed my eyes, and listened. When you close your eyes, the music becomes more intense and you hear what the eyes would see. The notes pop, you hear the nuances that you would normally miss because the senses are sharing. And I felt okay with the world. Some of the music brought tears. Emotions came to the forefront of my brain to be dealt with at that moment. I thought, oh please, not now. Can't you see I am busy listening to this wonderful sound?? But they came, and I said, okay, yes, you may sit with me now if you must. And just saying those words, yes, made it easier to sit with those old friends of the past. They didn't need any more attention than that, just the invitation to sit with me.

Shelby played for two hours. Part of me knew this would happen. That the evening would become a more intimate concert than would have if Mother Nature hadn't attended in full regalia. And the musician in me wanted to be a part of that. Even my son, also a musician, who had been driving all day in the blizzard of 2011 for this and that, who came in place of my husband, who was stuck in New York, and had never heard more than a couple of tunes from Shelby, agreed with me.

After our long and treacherous drive home, after knowing he was spending the night and not trying to make it back to his apartment, my son agreed it was a great concert. When music is good, it doesn't matter where and whom it comes from. It touches your soul for a brief moment. So, we both went, as crazy as that seems to everyone else. Because I had spent money on tickets and am too cheap to lose out on my purchase? Nah. Life is an adventure and playing it safe is boring and too much is missed in fear and safety. I choose life in all its glory. But mostly-----it's because we are musicians and we know that the show must go on.