As some of you know, I had a speech impediment as a child. This obstacle often left me paralyzed with shyness, as it was often better to shut up than risk embarrassment. I thought about this last Saturday as I pulled into Tammie img_1674.jpgGarcia’s driveway to play a house concert in celebration of her Mom Diane’s 65th birthday. There was a time when I probably would’ve talked myself out of this endeavor for fear of strangers. I didn’t know a soul at the party. I had no idea how they’d respond to my songs or loose wit.

Instead I pulled into the driveway, unloaded my gear, and played for a group of total strangers for three hours. Sure, there were moments during the concert when I felt completely self-conscious and a bit uneasy, but I let those thoughts pass through my mind’s center and disappear into what’s become a chasm of my former self. They also come with the territory; it happens almost every time I play.

Music’s been so an amazing friend to me. It’s been there when I need it most . It’s helped me overcome many obstacles in my life, helped me deal with rivers of pain and heartache, but moreover, it’s forced me to be social.

Live performance is nothing short of a social circus. Every aspect, save for the moments when I close my eyes during a song and think about the woods and fields near I used to run through as a child, is about engagement, from the moment you load in, to the moment you pack up and move on. Without this vessel, I’m afraid I would’ve moved to the foothills and lived a loner’s life, absent of the energy and creativity friendship and camaraderie supply.

The house concert was memorable for many reasons, including the jam with Tammie’s Uncle David, but the experience was marked mostly by the unique convergence with nature. I’d set up in Tammie’s backyard, a hillside overlooking a clearing in the woods (soon to be horse stable), and during my entire performance the treetops were littered with birds, all singing along. None knew the words, they instead focused on the melody. All were in key.

It’s not often these days when I get a chance to play in the great outdoors. During my teen years I’d frequently trek out into the woods and play guitar for hours at the base of a tree or near a stream. It just seemed natural. I even made a few tape recordings from those years on my cassette recorder. I’d die to have those back (both the days and the recordings).

On Friday night I played Elysium Arts Folk Club in my hometown of Rollinsford, NH with good friends Courtney Brocks and Jeff Hawkinson. Our mission that night was to solicit a band name. We even offered up a free house concert to anyone who could come up with a usable name. That monicker never surfaced, although it wasn’t for a lack of effort on the crowd’s part.

Another type of naturely convergence took place at Elysium, as Joe had opened the windows to let the warm May air come in, and you could hear the Salmon Falls River’s swift spring current between songs. It was a sweet reminder of things to come, of late spring and lasting sunlight.

The Elysium Arts show wasn’t exactly packed, but the folks who showed were intent, appreciative listeners. I uncorked a few new songs at the show, including one I’d recently written for my wife Jennifer called ‘Open Me,’ a tune I’m hoping to sneak on the new solo record. Jeff and Courtney also unearthed some new material, some with a distinct old-timey flair. All new entires were well-received by the crowd, and hopefully I’ll have some material from that show to post in this space (thanks to our friend Doug Keene and Joe Simes, both of whom recorded the show).

Thanks to everyone who came out to Elysium Arts Friday night, to Tammie Garcia for her kindness and hospitality, and to you, the reader.

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