Concert Diaries Chapter 31 ~ So Much Magic

It's the end of the Andy Grammer/Gavin DeGraw tour.  These bands outdid any previous performance I'd seen of them (and I've seen a lot).  I can't help but look back on the experiences of the last few months and relive some of the magic.

We (my PIC, Phyllis, and I) started calling October the magic month.  I often say I'm geographically blessed when it comes to concert attendance.  Northern New Jersey is less than an hour from New York, less than three hours from Philadelphia, five hours from Boston ... we can be anywhere in less than a day's drive.  Whomever booked the Andy Grammer/Gavin DeGraw tour scheduled so many shows within easy driving ... and we went to them all including some bonus magic at the end.

Why would I attend so many concerts by the same artist?  It's hard to explain.  If you know, you know.  For me, it's because he changed my life and when I'm in the same room as he, whether he's the opening act or headlining, I'm the most fully alive that I think I've ever been.  I feel things again.  I'm clear about myself.  I feel strong and confident and profoundly happy and all the stress of my "real" life tumbles away--not just for the hour of the show, but for days and weeks at a time.

And no, the shows aren't all the same.  There are always surprises, on and off the stage.  Because of the magic.

Even though October held the most magic, our story began in August with the opening night of the "DeGrammer" tour, in Bethel, New York.  The site of the original Woodstock Festival proved to be the perfect place to start the magic.  I was captivated by the Woodstock museum on the property and could have spent the entire day there remembering the music of that time and wondering at the extensive influence the event had for years after the festival.  I was haunted in a romantic way by the ghosts of the space we were in since I'm old enough remember Woodstock and the history of the place was not lost on me.


Both Gavin (born nearby) and Andy (raised nearby) had lots of stories and memories to share (or overshare).  They had lots of family and friends in attendance and the night felt very special with those ghosts and memories filling the air.  The set lists of both artists were a fan's dream come true and Gavin's inclusion of a short acoustic interlude was a perfect surprise.



Our next show was in Shelbeyville, Delaware on the Maryland border.  We had a relaxing drive down while listening to dreadful weather reports which, unfortunately were accurate.  After spending the night in Ocean City, we learned the outdoor concert was cancelled due to Hurricane Hermine.  We drove out of the area in high winds and rain but soon found ourselves under magical blue skies, looking forward to October.  Even a cancelled show can be part of the adventure, the memories, the magic.

Gavin and Andy donuts from Broad
 Street Dough Co. in Oakhurst

Reading came next, the first of the magic October shows.  We started this adventure by driving a couple hours out of our way to pick up donuts for the band.  Specially made to order, they were rather outrageous confections that I doubted our health conscious guys would indulge in but it was fun to deliver them.  We arrived in town, starving, and headed to the only place we knew of near the theatre, Mezcal's Restaurant. We'd been there for drinks the last time Gavin played in Reading.  Much to our surprise, when the waitress led us to a table right beside where members of Gavin's and Andy's bands were sitting.  I teased them about being in "our" restaurant and we chatted for a bit before turning to our menus.  We wished them an awesome show as they left.  We had a meet and greet with Gavin that night.  We climbed to the top of the old theater with my arthritis protesting each stair.  It was as thrilling to meet him again as it was the first time.  We had a lot of fun delivering the overloaded donuts and explaining that they were named for him and Andy.  We took several pictures and I could have talked for an hour.   The Reading show was truly fantastic.  It was our first show with Wrabel who was opening most of the nights on this tour.  He was lovely, talented, authentic and his songs were poetry.  Both Andy's and Gavin's sets were as exciting as they had been opening night.

Right after Reading, Phyllis received the email.  The magic email telling her that she'd won a trip to Las Vegas to see Gavin DeGraw in concert complete with a VIP meeting.  Even more magic for me when she invited me to go with her.  There were lots of details to be ironed out, paperwork she needed to complete and it would be a few days before the trip would be really confirmed.  We began to make plans.  Plans on top of the plans we already had.

A few days after the magic of Reading and prize-winning emails,

Kelly Ripa & Carrie Ann Inaba
greeting Andy after his
performance.

we took a sunrise train to New York.  It was a full day of fun with our bands.  We'd had tickets to The Kelly Show, betting that either Gavin or Andy would make an appearance, finding out later it would be Andy Grammer and his band on the show that day.  Gavin was appearing on the show in a second taping to be aired the next day.  We had to be up near Columbus Circle at the ABC studios before 7:30.  That was the first hour+ spent in lines that day.  The show was fun and Andy's performance was indicative of all his live performances--high energy, infectious and authentic.  Once the cameras were off, the infamous producer, Michael Gellman, said there were seats available for the next show.  Of course we ran around the side of the building and got in line and were ushered into the studio again.  Unfortunately, Gavin cancelled at the last minute and did not appear.  We didn't know it at the time, but he wasn't feeling well.  We would learn more about that in the days ahead.

The concert that night at the Hammerstein Ballroom was exciting.  The sold-out crowd was a little pushy and we weren't in the front row (second row fabulous that night) but the kind front row nurses (they were all nurses) that we became friends with made room for this arthritic older fan and I leaned on the barricade for the last half of the show.  Gavin surprised the crowd by added another new song from the latest album to the setlist:  You Make My Heart Sing Louder.  He told us it was his mom's favorite and dedicated his performance of it to her.  Her love beamed back at him from where she stood in the balcony.  Lots of our old friends were in attendance that night and we became fast friends with new people as well.  As I've mentioned many times in this space, this is one of the magical benefits of following this singer--the friends I've made ... both in person and in social media.  The concert that night was another beautiful example of the excitement and energy the filled the stage every night of this tour.

Thanking service men & women.

Wrabel

The next day I was off to Boston to visit my daughter in her new apartment and to show my mom where her granddaughter lives and works.  Knowing she wouldn't have two days off in a row, I bought a ticket to see the Boston stop of the tour.  In the ancient Orpheum Theater I had my second meet and greet, met Andy's bass player Zach Rudolph and saw my fourth show of the tour.  I saw lots of friends scattered around the room.  The old theatre's rows were tight and the seats held together with duct tape in some cases.  I wondered about all the artists who'd appeared there over the years.  My fourth row seat was as close as first row in some theaters.  One magical moment occurred when Andy Grammer snuck onto the stage where opener Stephen Wrabel was laying his whole heart as he always does.  He actually admonished the audience to be quiet for Stephen's last song, a beautiful new ballad destined for his next record.  Andy said he wanted to be able to hear a pin drop.  Thank you Andy!  It's hard to understand how and why people talk through the openers.  There were quite a few enlisted men and women and veterans in the audience that night.  An amazing authentic moment of these shows has been Gavin's recognizing of these men and women and thanking them publicly for their service.

The day after the Boston getaway, Phyllis arrived for what we had thought would be the rest of the October shows ... Sayreville and Morristown in New Jersey and finally, Philadelphia.

High energy from the Andy Grammer crew.

Front row for Gavin.

The Starland Ballroom is one of my least favorite venues, it's tight and people get pushy.  It was a general admission show so we arrived early.  Really early.  But we had parking pass tickets which meant we'd get in early, after the VIP ticket holders.  My favorite radio station, WPLJ, showed up with snacks for the fans in line.  I'd wound up with an extra ticket for the show (long story) so another concert friend of mine joined us and by some miracle, we wound up front row in front of bassist, James Cruz and drummer, Mike Baker.  We were enchanted with Wrabel once again.  Andy Grammer was amazing as always.  He invited each of his band members to take solos during "You Can Do This."  They, and we, were totally surprised.  By now I'd heard his new song (as yet unrecorded) enough times to remember a lot of the words.  It's a stunningly beautiful song about sharing your authentic self with the important people in your life ... all of yourself, not just the comfy, cozy parts.  It brings me to tears every time.

Post show.

Gavin delivered his usual heartfelt performance with funny stories.  One of the most magical moments of our night at Starland was the impromptu duet of Gavin and a friend of his from his early days when he performed in bars and clubs in New York.  John Breedlove joined him on stage and they sang Sam Cooke's A Change is Going to Come. It was a very special moment.   One of the truly unique things about Gavin is how willing he is to share the stage with other people.  His kindness and generosity are unfailing. He was genuinely thrilled to see his old friend and was enthusiastic in his introduction.  Later, in the parking lot, we had the opportunity to speak to John for a few moments.  He confirmed what we've always known:  that Gavin is as loving and loyal in real life as he comes across on stage.  After the show, he came down and greeted fans and took pictures.  More magic.

I was so looking forward to the Morristown show.  I grew up in Morristown and was excited for my favorite band to be in my favorite town in a theater where I watched movies in high school.  I will confess we could have slept in, taken it slow since it was a seated show and no early lining up was necessary but we actually went to town for lunch and spent time in the park (more properly, "The Green" if you're from these parts) as the day was really beautiful and we thought our favorite guys might be out and about.  They weren't and in fact, Gavin's bus was no where to be seen.  Andy Grammer tweeted that he'd hidden tickets somewhere outside the theater so since no one else was looking for them, we did.  Phyllis found them but our seats were better so she taped them back into the hiding place.  They were still there after the show.  Apparently no one in Morristown is on Twitter besides me.  That was the night we heard Gavin was ill with a really bad upper respiratory infection.  We watched as his bus pulled in without much time to spare.  Stephen Wrabel was out on the sidewalk doing Facebook Live.  We waited a few minutes and then struck up a conversation. It was nice to be able to tell him how much we enjoyed getting to know him and his music.  We took some pictures and then it was time to go inside.

Phyllis takes a selfie with Greg.

Our seats were in the 7th row, good but not great, on the guitar and keys side for a change.  That was also the night that hardly anyone stood and no one danced.  I wrote a separate story about that here.  That was the time that although I was in row 7, it felt like front row--a different sort of magic.  Between the sets, we spoke with Andy's guitarist, Greg Karas for a few minutes.  I asked him how they keep up the pace, with very few days off on this tour.  He replied, "we were born to do this."  I believe him.

A heartfelt hug for a blast from the past.

You'd never have known Gavin was ill (until the end of the show when he didn't perform his usual encores).  He was charming and energetic and sang his heart out as well as any other time I'd heard him.  At one point a woman approached the stage with her phone in the air.  I wondered where security was as she walked right up to the stage where he was telling a story.  It turned out she'd gone to summer camp with him when they were 11 years old.  They been at the same bus stop together all summer.  Big hugs ensued as we witnessed the mini reunion.  It was a magical moment.

The next day we were off to Philadelphia--early since we had to stand in line.  Despite the date (mid October), it was 80 degrees so the five hours we waited, chatting with the folks we were in line with were hot and steamy.  The Fillmore is a unique venue with rusty old gates out front and a very modern vibe inside. Somehow we got separated while we were checking in.  I wound up in the front row at the end of the stage but Phyllis and our friend, Rebecca, wound up towards the middle near the front.  I need that rail, especially after so many late nights, long lines and hours of dancing.  I could hear my knees protesting loudly.  We loved this show too.  It was fun to see looks of recognition from many of the guys in the band. After the show, when he came down to greet fans, Gavin asked me if I'd had a good time that night (of course!!) and I asked him how he was feeling.  He was still pretty sick, he said (actually he said "I feel like crap.")  Again, you'd never have known.  If it's possible to admire him more, I do.  Powering through those shows was probably difficult.  I have had some experience with respiratory infections.  I have no idea how he was singing through the pain of whatever was plaguing his lungs but he did.  (Later we'd learn he'd contracted walking pneumonia.  Towards the end of the tour he was so sick, he did have to cancel a couple of shows which must have been a very hard decision for him to make.)

Curtain call at the Fillmore.

The next day it was back to work in the hazy dream-like state of concert high.  Make that multiple concert highs.  We'd thought our adventure would end in Philadelphia but the best magic was yet to take place--in Las Vegas.  But that's a separate story.  If you're curious, you can read it here.

Our fall adventures were filled to the brim with our favorite music, chance meetings with some of our favorite artists, scheduled meetings with Gavin, renewing friendships and making new ones at every show with hugs and smiles and stories and photos.  I had filled my tank with the energy that only comes from these experiences and the magic that accompanies them.  Nearly a month later, the concert high lingers, the happiness permeates most every minute* and since there is another concert to come in December, there is more magic to come.

*the election results notwithstanding ...

Memories and Memorials

It's September 11.  I live not too far from New York.  It goes without saying I suppose that this day is a sad one for all of us and maybe particularly for those who live or work in those areas of impact where the lingering scars in the landscape and proliferation of memorials from local structures to the larger nationally known monuments at the sites themselves are daily reminders from which we cannot run.

There are those empty spaces in the New York skyline that have yet to cease feeling like a punch in the gut when I get to that spot on the ride into the City and realize anew every time that the missing pieces are gone for good and how they came to be that way--what the significance of their absence means ... the monumental loss.  I'm continually surprised each time I see the new Freedom Tower in the skyline as though my brain can't accept it--how did that get there, it seems to wonder.

So like millions of others I've been remembering all day ... where I was and who I was with.  The collective television watching with the same horrific images repeating over and over.  The local reports of people who made it home, covered in ash, being hosed down at local train stations.  The local people who didn't make it home.  The gamut of emotions that raged over the course of the days that followed but mostly the extreme sadness and then the empty feeling after you just couldn't cry anymore.

After the news cycles eventually returned to normal and the events of September 11 weren't the sum total of the morning and evening broadcasts, those in the greater New York area still heard stories on a daily basis during the long recovery process.  We followed the debris as it made it's way out of the hole and went to stations for sorting.  Years later there were still stories almost daily about the aftermath of illnesses that befell first responders and those who worked in the pit, the reparations and donations.  The New York memorial services are still televised live on the 11th every year.  They still read the names of every person who perished.  If I am able to tune in, I still listen for the names I recognize.

I have other memories that really stand out:  twisted metal on trucks.  It happened more than once during the first years following the attacks.  I'd be on the highway going who-know-where and I'd pass or be passed by a flatbed truck carrying one or two or perhaps three lengths of twisted, rusted metal.  I didn't have to wonder what it was or where it was going.  It just took my breath away each time.  The beams, always lying tied to the trucks, appeared to me to be prostrate in a sort of twisted permanent agony as they traveled to the myriad communities that built memorials to honor the memories of those who died, the service of those who responded and the pain of the families left behind.

I see two such memorials fairly regularly and another almost daily.  There is one in a sports field complex in the town where I work.  Our county memorial is near a building where I sometimes have to attend meetings.  The one I see often--almost daily--sits along the road that I travel from where I live now to the town where I grew up about 10 miles away and where my mom still lives, where I go out to eat, shop, attend church, see doctors, spend much of my life.

Morris Plains, NJ

I don't pass one of these installations without remembering.  I saw landscapers tending to the Morris Plains memorial the other day--the day before the 11th.  I imagined that their chores, performed routinely elsewhere, took on something of the sacred in that small patch of green on that day.

I wonder about the children who play on the soccer fields in Boonton Township where I work.  Most of them weren't born when the planes hit the towers.  How do their parents explain the tall pieces of steel to them?  How can they ever understand?

Do we now even understand ourselves?  I'm pretty sure I don't.

But I'll never forget.

That Other Day I Was Spontaneous ~ Joey DeGraw at The Bitter End

Sometimes, you can get a cab right away in New York.  Sometimes, you have to work for it.  After the concert at Central Park's SummerStage, it wasn't that easy.  But with the number of people pouring out of the Park at the same time, it was no wonder.  Eventually, the four of us piled into the cab that stopped and for some of us, it was the first time we'd sat down in about 7 hours.  When a New York City cab feels that comfortable, you know you're a little tired.

We'd just seen Andrew McMahon, Matt Nathanson and Gavin DeGraw play to a sold out audience on a beautiful summer evening. We'd waited in line since noon for the 6 PM concert to be assured of the front row.  We were riding that well-known post concert high and now were on our way to The Bitter End for more because no one wanted this night to be over just yet.  Joey DeGraw was holding another "open rehearsal" tonight and although it would be tight making our connections to buses and trains, we decided we had to go.  Phyllis and I had had a good time last week listening to Joey and I wasn't sure when I'd have this chance again.  

Tickets and Tutus ~ Grateful List #3

1. Territory
2. Tickets
3. Tutus

I'm a lucky girl and I know it.  I'm so grateful to live where I live for all kinds of reasons.  I'm within an hour or so of mountains, gorgeous beaches, deep pine forests and the greatest city in the world.  Living near to New York is a real blessing.  We have access to the best doctors, fabulous school systems and private schools, unlimited shopping (if you have an unlimited checkbook), history, parks, sports (at least two of everything) and the largest arts scene anywhere.  From museums to Lincoln Center to Broadway Theater--there is more soul-satisfying art than one can appreciate in a lifetime.  And there's live music.  Every night of every day.  Local musicians scratching out a living (maybe) and the lucky ones who've hit it big and come through town at the larger venues.  Those of us who live close to (or in) New York have all of this bounty from which to choose.  We can experience the grandeur of opera at the Met to the heart-pounding excitement of Billy Joel at Madison Square Garden.  I know how lucky I am that my favorite singer happens to come through New York, where his career began, and the surrounding area several times each year.  My territory--I can't imagine moving too far.

It's ticket week!  My favorite singer has not yet completed his current tour and in fact I've yet to use my tickets to three shows on the spring tour.  But earlier in the week, tickets went on sale for the summer tour and I have four shows to look forward to in August.  I'm so grateful for these opportunities to reinvigorate my senses and meet up with friends near and farther away.  I realize that many of my concert friends don't have this lovely advantage of living so near to a wide variety of venues and I sometimes feel guilty at the richness of it all.  

When you work in a school, your day is scheduled.  There's homeroom followed by a bunch of sections of time we call "periods" to organize our student's days of learning.  You would think this very scripted day would fall into a certain rhythm of predictability.  But you would be wrong.  Because you just cannot predict what 479 kids will do or say on any given day.  And sometimes it isn't anything really special or amazing that they do or say...  It's just them being them and you'll spot something that triggers a response that makes you giggle or smile or swells your heart with the unique glow that only a child can put there.  Such was the case yesterday when I spied a very little girl pausing for a drink at the water fountain.  I could barely see her.  She had come to school in a bright pink tutu and black tights.  Bent over the water fountain, all that was really visible of her was some long blond hair and waves and waves of pink tulle.  How do you not smile over that?  I'm grateful for pink tutus.

My cup runneth over.

Concert Diaries Chapter 22 ~ A Blitz of a Day

Passing MetLife Stadium on the way.  SuperBowl site.

It was a spectacular day--Saturday was.  Having had two weeks of horribly cold, unbearably cold weather, it was in the 40's on Saturday.  Perfect weather for a day in New York.  My son had given me tickets to see Motown on Broadway for Christmas.  Of course, when he bought them, he didn't realize it was also Superbowl weekend and that the City would literally be crawling with every manner of football fan from happy families to loud and boisterous packs of roaming men decked out in Sea Hawks lime green and blue and Broncos dark blue and orange.  We decided to head in early for lunch in case their were parking issues.

I wanted to go back to Celsius in Bryant Park because Brenda and I had had a good time there in December.  Since it was also my birthday on Saturday, I got my wish.  Celsisus was still standing and will be until March (go soon, it's got really good food) when it will disappear until next year.  We sat outside on the deck under our little heat lamp and watched the skaters on the temporary rink in the center of the Park.  Pop up restaurant; temporary rink.  This is New York.  There was a "ringer" occupying center ice on Saturday.  We enjoyed her laybacks, Bielman spins, flying camels, double lutzes and scratch spins.  Some of these moves aren't easy to do with inexperienced wobbling skaters weaving all around you.

In the nave of St. Bart's

After lunch we headed back to Times Square to check out the Superbowl festivities.  We arrived at Broadway to find a huge crowd gathered to watch the governors of New York and New Jersey, Cuomo and Christie, "hand off" the superbowl to the govern or Arizona.  Neither of are Christie fans and the crowd was incredible so we walked north.  There was a ridiculously long line of people waiting to have their picture taken with the trophy.  We decided to get the heck out of Times Square and get some shopping done.  Barnes and Noble on Fifth Avenue didn't have what my son needed so we enjoyed a longish walk to 54th and Third where we found the books he needed.  Down the street we picked up some things he needed for his trip to Mountain Creek the next day.  Heading back towards the Theater District we ducked into St. Bartholomew's on Park Avenue for a few minutes.  He was pretty young when we went to services there and didn't remember how beautiful that church is.

Times Square and an ad for Motown.

We had to pass through the insane football crowd again and it took a while.  We decided to go for a quick dinner at the bar at the Marriot across from the Lunt Fontaine Theater which is where we needed ultimately to be for the early curtain of 7:30.  The Marriot was teeming with football fans too and a special party was going on in the 8th floor restaurant next to the bar.  

Motown tells Barry Gordy's story:  how he founded the record label and managed the careers of so many of the performers associated with it.  From Diana Ross to Smokey Robinson, Marvin Gaye, The Jackson Five, the stories and music went on and on.  The actors sang dozens of songs from the 25 year span of Motown's heyday.  Each one brought back a memory especially the songs from the seventies, songs by Diana Ross and Stevie Wonder and others.  Songs evoke certain times for me.  A lot of these brought me back to high school and college days.  The first act's early Motown hits reminded me of my preteen years just outside the Motor City, Detroit, in my hometown on the Canadian side of the river.  It was a really enjoyable step back in time--perfect for a birthday celebration.  By the end of the show, people were out of their seats as though at a concert and yelling at the stage for Marvin Gaye or Stevie Wonder.  And, truthfully, it was more of a concert than a play.  And that was okay with me.

Always enjoy Gavin in my living room.

Originally, I'd had tickets to a second event that night.  The late-night Superbowl Blitz concert sponsored by VH1 at the Wellmont Theater in Montclair.  It was the sixth Blitz concert in as many nights.  They'd covered all of New York's boroughs and wound up with this final show in New Jersey, because, as many people apparently failed to acknowledge, the game was actually played in New Jersey in the stadium that is home to both New York football teams.  This is a conundrum that baffles most New Jerseyans, Jets and Giants fans alike.  But I digress ... the Superbowl Blitz concert with Gavin DeGraw (yes, Gavin DeGraw) was starting at 11:00 PM and was to be telecast live on VH1.  I was beyond excited to spend the day with my favorite guy and then the night seeing my favorite singer.  However, it was not meant to be.  When the tickets arrived, they stated that all attendees had to arrive at the venue by 9:30.  Impossible for me since I was at the theater.  I reluctantly released the tickets (after much back and forth emailing with the ticket provider).  My wonderful son got us home in time to see the concert on television.  

Hey, I know these people...

So the last hour of my birthday was filled with the music I love, the excitement of knowing that lots of people were seeing the performance across the country and the attendant twitterfest.  Seeing many of my friends scattered throughout the huge audience, some in the front row made the experience that much Sweeter.  Gavin outdid himself with energy and passion.  His set list was reminiscent of last summer's tour set.  At one point during his cover of Justin Timberlake's Mirrors (the cover he's included in the set list--he usually does one--since July), he went into the audience as usual.  Balancing precariously on the edge of the curve of the stage, it was like watching a little Cirque du Soleil.  Twitter reaction was worried--would he fall?  It's one thing to stand on someone's chair but there was precious little stage to stand on where he was and those of who know every nuance of his performances could tell from the slight strain in his voice that it was an effort to keep his balance and keep on singing.  

Many thanks to my son for such a fun day.  Of all the fun things that happened on my blitz of a day, the best was spending time with him*.

~~~~

*He's totally camera shy ... I never have any pictures of him.

Behind the scenes at Motown.

Gavin DeGraw at the Wellmont Theatre, Montclair, NJ,
VH1's Superbowl Blitz.  Make A Move

There is really nothing quite as pretty as
New York at night.  Don't you agree?

Concert Diaries Chapter Ten: An Evening with Ernie Halter

I know it doesn't look like much but
I've seen some good bands there.

I spent a nice evening with Ernie Halter at the Rockwood Music Hall last week.  The Rockwood is a music venue just off Houston Street in Lower Manhattan. Not that I was with Ernie Halter ... but he's very personable and it sort of felt that way.  (I attended this show with a friend but I don't expect my friends to become characters in my blogging hobby so I usually disguise them with pronouns or initials for names.)

Ernie is one of a handful of musicians currently hanging out in Nashville that I follow on Twitter (@erniehalter).  I don't know what it is about Nashville--I've never been there--but I feel drawn to the place and am just waiting for the perfect moment to visit for the first of what I'm sure will be many times.  (And in fact, if I don't get there before May next year, I'm assured of a visit around Memorial Day for the wedding of a friend.)

I think it's fairly safe to say that I favor the singer/songwriter type of musician above all others.  They sing their own thoughts and ideas and emotions; it seems so honest to me.  Even when the song isn't about their own experience but someone else's, I find they are sincere in what they are trying to communicate.  I admire the risks they take, putting their own feelings out there for all to see ... or hear.

Ernie sang and played piano and guitar and chatted with the crowd about his music, visiting New York and his twin daughters for about an hour.  His music runs in the "pop" vein I suppose, or "adult contemporary" as many say today since the pop category is so very broad now.  He told the audience last Tuesday that he likes writing "baby-making music" the most.  And much of what he played was pretty romantic.

The Rockwood is really small and intimate (and very red) so no matter where you are in the room, it's a safe bet that you're going to feel like you're in the front row.  It must be either very comfortable for the performers there because it probably feels like playing in someone's two-story loft living room or maybe nerve wracking for the same reason--so close and nowhere to hide.

I most enjoyed Pretty Girl and Lighthouse, but really I found all his songs spoke to me in some way.  He desperately wanted to play some of his newly written music and managed to get a few songs in (some of which so new he struggled a wee bit with the lyrics) but his fans kept requesting their favorites and he definitely seemed in the mood to give his audience what they wanted.  He mashed some of his popular songs together in order to make the most of his hour at the Rockwood.  He was deft at improvising them together and amusing the audience with silly verses in between songs.  I got the impression that that's the way he rolls as an artist: genuinely wanting his fans to have a great time and charming his way into the hearts of new audience members, like me, too.

Afterwards, he hung out in the bar, signing CD's and taking pictures, chatting with folks.  He was gracious and funny, very generous with his time.  If Ernie Halter is playing in Nashville when I get there, I will be stopping by to hear him again for sure.

~

Lighthouse - The person who filmed this must have been sitting right in front of me.

Let me be your lighthouse
Let me guide your hand
Let me be your shelter
For you, for you I stand

When you feel the dark inside you
And the wind and waves
Keep pushing you down
Feel the whole world pulling you around

Let me be your lighthouse
Let me guide your hand
Let me be your shelter
For you, for you I stand

When you feel the dark inside you
And the moon and stars
Don't lead you nowhere
Feels like no one is watching up there

Let me be your lighthouse
Let me guide your hand
Let me be your shelter
For you, for you I stand

Let me be the one
Standing when you come
Lay your anchor down
And let me wrap my arms around you

Let me be your lighthouse
Let me guide your hand
Let me be your shelter
For you, for you I stand
For you I stand, for you I stand