“This never gets old.”
I’ve heard that at least a few times in the last couple weeks, each in reference to a different thing.
Among them:
The moment, as we’re walking to the signing table, that the concert-goers recognize that it’s actually the band walking through the lobby and they start to applaud.
This might seem strange; after all, we’d been getting much louder applause for the previous hour and a half or so – why is this different? There’s something special about seeing all those people’s faces and them being excited to see us personally (I’ll let you in on a secret: during the show, we can see somewhere between zero and 30 rows, and usually about the first 3 or 4. No, this is not Blake’s fault; it is the nature of the beast). On stage, there is a small amount of distance, both literal and figurative, keeping us from the audience. Plus, there is some feeling that they’re clapping for the song, or for the production, or for someone else in the band. When you walk by someone and they clap and tell you what a great job you did, it’s hard to think they’re excited about someone else.
Random moments of recognition.
These fall into two categories. First, every once in a while, someone in a restaurant, coffee shop, or bar will come up and say, “Hey! Aren’t you in Straight No Chaser?” (In actuality, it’s usually more like, “Hey, aren’t you one of those guys who sing without any music?” or “Hey, aren’t you from that Christmas YouTube video?” or “Is Mike here somewhere, too?”). That’s always fun. However, I prefer the second degree recognize: someone close to one of us will hear from a friend or coworker a story about a great group the friend/coworker saw on TV or on YouTube or live, and the friend/coworker will ask our mom/sister/friend if they’ve ever heard of Straight No Chaser. It’s always a good time when our mom/sister/friend lets the friend/coworker know that their son/brother/friend is actually in SNC. (I wanted to see how many slashes I could use in that sentence. 9.)
The silence at the end of Fix You before the applause starts.
That song is one where pretty much all ten of us are wailing our faces off. By the end of the song, we have given every bit of emotion we’ve got. This brings me to another point.
Every once in a while people ask whether or not I’m happy that I left my old life and joined the carnival that is the SNC touring life. The answer is yes; the explanation is harder. What is it about going out on the road and singing people that is fulfilling? It's not (just) narcissism, right? Here's one example of what makes this a great gig.
After a recent show, a fan gave each of us a present. It was a DVD of a dance recital, where she danced to our Fix You. Along with it was a note discussing some of the struggles she’d endured prior to that recital. She had almost given up on dancing – the thing that had been her passion, her gift, and her dream – after physical and emotional setbacks. It was our song that had reminded her why she danced, and why she should again.
Now, I’ll be honest, dancing is not my cup of tea. Anyone who has seen me lumbering about the stage, with my way-too-long arms nearly dragging on the ground, concentrating on which foot to start with in Stayin’ Alive probably assumed as much. But to see her dance, knowing that she’d almost given up, was quite moving. Knowing that Straight No Chaser’s music played a role in returning her to dancing…moving isn’t a strong enough word for it.
As a singer, hearing that someone’s life has been improved through our music is about as high praise as I can hear. As a musician, affecting a person’s life in a positive way – whether for a minute, a performance, or a lifetime – is my ultimate goal. If, by me taking part in the performance of a song, a listener’s life has been bettered, I feel I have succeeded. In reality, I think all of us – be we musicians, attorneys, butchers, bakers, candlestick makers, whatever – should be striving toward that simply stated, but all-too-elusive end of improving the lives of those around us. If that’s not what our purpose is on this planet, I’m certain I don’t know what is.
To get back to where I started: finding out that someone’s life has been utterly and profoundly positively changed by what we’ve done…well, if someone were to ask me what is the ultimate “This Never Gets Old” moment, I’d say that’s it.


Comments
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