I went to an afternoon concert recently—a tribute to Gordon Lightfoot. About 70 people attended in a small venue. The lead of the trio was Benjamin Williams. I first saw him when he was 15 years old, busking on the street corners of Edmonton. He sounded good back then, and it was fun to hear how his voice has improved over the last 15 years or so.

By the end of the performance, I had to put it in the top three of live concerts I have been fortunate enough to attend.

“How so?” you ask. Well, let me try to figure out that answer. In the current phrasing, I’ll unpack it.

I had front-row, centre seating. I couldn’t quite reach out and play Benjamin’s guitar, but I was close. I had clear light of sight to watch the amazing musicians play their guitars, which ranged from a 12-string to a 6-string and a 4-string.

Benjamin’s diction was crystal clear. I mean every syllable.

There were many moments when, with eyes closed, I could easily imagine it was Lightfoot on stage.

Lightfoot is a strong songwriter. I enjoy closing my eyes for songs that are strong on imagery, such as “campfire smoke rises to the shadows overhead.” I’ve sat around many campfires and watched that magic play out just above my head.

This concert was one of three. The intriguing fact is that the three are so very different.

In second place was Joan Baez for her show at the Winspear Concert Hall in Edmonton. Seating is in a U-shape with lots of floor seating and several levels of seating around the outer wall of the hall, for a total of 1,800. This is 25 times larger than the Lightfoot Tribute show.

Joan was such a classy professional. Sitting in the centre of the second row, we did not miss a single facial expression. She recited her own poetry along with the background of each piece. A kind, gentle, strong woman who knew she was at the top of her game, and most songs were written by her. She owned that stage.

Now, I put Leonard Cohen, appearing in the local NHL hockey arena, in first place. There were many singers and musicians, with a piano off to the side. At one point, he ran across the stage and then slid on his knees before coming to a stop. He never lost his trademark hat! For a man in his seventies, it was quite a show.

Particularly memorable was his introduction of his backup singers and musicians. He stopped the show, turned to each supporting person at a time and spoke eloquently of their background. You could hear a pin drop. This contrasted sharply with the next night, when I was at a Jesse Cook concert in a 500-seat venue. The band played while he told us the hometown of each musician. I never did hear their names or where they were from, given the noise (music) that played over Jesse’s intros.

Please give this a bit of a think. Do you have significant events in your life that at first glance appear to have little in common with each other? Yet they are connected sufficiently to allow comparisons and ranking of their importance in your life.

I am curious about your thoughts. Please comment below or send me an email with your bit of a think.

Photo by Glenn Walmsley

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