The gig (I know, I know...another post about Hawksley Workman...bear with me) was in this small little club in Soho. The place was standing room only and packed to the hilt.
It was just Hawksley and a keyboard player, and it was fantastic.
I used to listen to him a lot about 8 years ago and saw him play at the Sidetrack Cafe in Edmonton. On Saturday there was an equally devoted mass of fans who knew all the lyrics and hung on his every word between songs. He's actually a hilarious story teller as well as a kick ass rocker and songwriter.
When I was in nursing school I did a placement at a seniors drop-in center. They used to crank out the piano and sing war songs, many of them seemed to drift completely to another place and time during these singalongs. Some had sad wistful smiles, others seemed lost in happy memories.
I felt that in myself on Saturday.
I remembered being in the audience and having a beer soaked shirt on, dancing until the sweat made my hair cling to my face. I remembered what it was like to play music for people, to see a crowd singing along to our songs.
It made me feel a little sad.
The Sidetrack was torn down to build plywood condos. The band I used to have that rocked the same stage is scattered across Canada now. I remembered that time in my life when anything seemed possible and at the end of the day you'd just drop on your futon and decide to worry about things later.
The perfect part was being there with my dear friend Keith who has been beside me in a beer soaked shirt since we were 15.
We're in a different phase now and I know that is a natural progression, but it doesn't mean we can't enjoy those reminders of our reckless and feckless youth, and sigh.