Livingston Taylor

Queenee and I saw Livingston Taylor at the Company Theatre in Norwell last night. I saw him back at the beginning of his career in the Braintree High School gym, of all places, with about 20 other people. I was embarrassed at the poor turnout, but he sat on a folding chair and sang his heart out for an hour or two for us. The tiny group meant I was lucky enough to be able to position myself on the floor just in front of him. I never took my eyes off his hands; he plays finger-picking guitar and I was mesmerized. He was the inspiration for me learning to play a guitar. Another time I saw him at the Music Circus and he must have been high - he was introduced three times before he actually made it out to the stage - but the show was fabulous, as usual.

He's teaching at Berklee now - lucky students. Last night's performance was peppered with commentary about writing and composing and some history of popular music. His range of knowledge about music is impressive. I haven't seen him live in years. He sings and plays better than ever and his new CD, There You Are Again, is really great. He played both guitar and piano (no banjo) and sang a lot of new material and some old favorites. I could have used a hanky; tears welled up more than once. I'm so happy that he's still writing and performing, there is too little thoughtful music being made these days. Afterward, he signed CDs and small posters in the lobby for about 100 people. You can imagine what is must be like to be gracious and cordial night after night with people who act like they know you, but he seems to enjoy it and worked through the line with the aplomb one might expect from a seasoned pro who loves his audience.

I managed to be the last person in line, which was fine - I had dragged out my dog-eared but well-loved copy of his very first album and wanted to get him to sign that instead of the CD I had bought earlier in the evening. Just as my turn came up, two very rude women decided that they would return and continue talking with him while I was getting my album signed. One of these two creatures wanted him to correct a spelling mistake in her name, and then asked him to add a little heart. Sheesh. I bit my tongue. He tried to ask my name while they were clamoring for his attention, and I said, "No need, just sign it." Which, in hindsight, sounds really brusque. I was trying not to take up too much of his time, it was getting late and he had to get home too, yet ces deux vaches carried on, one asking questions about Six Days On The Road, which happened to be on the album he was signing for me. I would have asked him to please sign the record itself as well, but these two women were just making my teeth hurt and I thought it would be too much of an imposition, after them, to ask. Anyway, he signed the album, shook my hand and said thanks, and then was dragged away by someone else.

So now I feel like a real shit, having been unintentionally rude to someone for whom I have only the utmost admiration. I'm sure he didn't even notice, but I feel bad about it anyway. I'd send him an email and apologize, but it would never get past the people who filter his website email, and you can't blame him for that; he's so popular he would be inundated with email from people pulling and pushing him this way and that. Liv, if by some miracle you happen to read this (LOL, as if *that's* likely), I'm sorry, and thanks for signing my album. It was a real treat to see you again after so many years.