One of the best parts of shooting a concert is getting there ahead of the crowd, before the show begins. When I walked through the stage door at The LC Saturday evening, several of the players were doing sound checks.
Dave carefully set up stands for his sax and flute. Molly strummed her mandolin, then put it down in favor of her electric bass. A few minutes later, Terry sat down at his pedal-steel guitar, adjusted the bench to his liking and twanged a whimsically mournful tune to an empty house.The arena's lighting and audio crews clambered and fiddled and fussed, chasing persistent bugs.
In the green room, Steve changed out of his cap and hoodie, donning his trademark straw hat and a black buttoned shirt. He pulled a well-loved Fender bass from its case. While he plucked and tuned we spoke of growing old, wishing aloud for friends who aren't here to grow old with us.As showtime drew closer, one by one the rest of the performers arrived. Dozens of personal reunions took place before the musical Reunion took the stage. I was treated like a member of the family.
There was laughter and warm hugs, some tears, much quiet conversation and at least one enthusiastic chest-bump.(Ouch.)
Backstage moments like these are unknown to most concertgoers, but this is where magic lives, where music begins.
Being a part of it is a singular privilege. I consider myself truly fortunate.
