After we had finished playing our set at the Free State Blues show, we began talking with some friends we knew, as well as some people new to our band. When the next music act started and our circle (at the CD table) slowly dispersed, I was approached by a man in the crowd. He spoke to me in such a sincere voice, telling me about his recent separation from his wife of nine-plus years, and how much he was comforted by the last song we played (”Let Me”). When I went to put my hand on his shoulder his eyes threatened rain. I didn’t have to say anything, I just smiled, and even in that exchange he was able to smile too.

This is why I do it.

A reviewer once asked me why I often tend to write sad songs? I’m sure I was quoting someone, somewhere when I responded, “Sad songs aren’t really sad, they just remind us that we’re not alone.”

We’ve all been there.

I wrote the song. I played the song. And for those passing minutes, he felt comfort in my song.

It’s the connection. That’s why I do it. Music is so much more than anyone can really put a finger on.