Eloquence often escapes me. The other night, when I found my way to the stage, my words felt lost behind the microphone. Maybe I was inhibited by nerves, emotion, and the joyful rowdiness of twenty or so people on a single stage. What I never said and wanted to express is that good friends are truly a blessing. That show was the best medicine I’ve had since my surgery. I feel better because of that show. Not figuratively, I physically feel better.
I looked around and saw many walks of life side by side. You know, beards and crew cuts, loafers and cowboy boots. I saw old friends I haven’t seen in years, and some folks I had never met before. Everyone was having a good time. Lovely.
I moved to Charleston about five years ago, with the sole purpose of playing songs for a living. Burns Alley was the first place to give me a gig, and they have pretty much kept me in business for the long haul. And when getting gigs became a tough task, and I was too “gritty” for one bar, and too “slow” for another, I met the guys at The Griffon and Surf Bar, and they were nice enough to say, “We like your style, dude.” They also kept me in business and good times.
A blue collar approach to music, or playing music to pay the bills, has its share of peaks and valleys. As the great song “Amanda” states:
“There’s a measure of people who don’t understand
The pleasures of life in a hillbilly band.”
But, standing in front of nobody, or an impatient crowd that only wants to hear “Brown Eyed Girl” and “Wagon Wheel” (both great songs, by the way, just a bit worn down by barroom stages and whiskey soaked requests), it is tempting and easy to forget why I got into writing and playing songs in the first place. It warms me up to know that some folks have been listening. It made me truly happy, and as a lot of my good friends know, even though I tried and often failed to hide it, happiness is something that has frequently alluded me the last couple of years.
We spend most of our lives trying to “come into our own,” and searching for our voice. I have found an integral and significant part of myself within the Charleston music community. I’ve made lifelong friends and found inspiration from Awendaw to Edisto. What you gave me was beyond all. I hope that you lend your hands, voices, songs, and hearts to good causes and good times at every opportunity. And Lord willing and creeks staying level, I’ll be right there with y'all faster than you can say Haggard. Again, I love you all very much and I remain humbled and honored.
Cheers,
Mac
