James Hand. Dawn and Hawkes; Thin skin

One great evening at the Saxon Pub with James Hand and Dawn and Hawkes celebrated music that captured love, loss, humor and vulnerability.

James Hand’s music at the Saxon Pub Saturday was a musical gospel range of love, devotion, humility and charm. Calling his audience friends over fans simmered righteous harmony.

Members of the audience were clearly followers for decades of time.  And, still, he admitted to being a bit nervous in front of the seated and very focused crowd. He said he was not accustomed to the quiet stares. He said usually his songs accompanied dancing.  For a moment, he fidgeted a bit and asked the audience for song suggestions.

His parakeet lyrics were funny as well as his other songs “written in the hallway” and songs he wrote when he was “outside in the cold- -so cold that the gas wouldn’t light," and his lyrics were true to the heart as he wiped an eye after singing about the loss of a loved one and Old Man Henry.

His rockstar red-flamed boots and suit were the most contrasting element of the show. Upon his first entrance, it’s easy to feel a bit intimidated with the space he takes on the stage.

But, after one song, I see him dip his hat and thank the audience as if he’s the most humble person in the room. It was easy to feel like I mattered just as much as he did, and it’s him the cameras were pointed at.

Within his first breath on stage he is thanking his partners that got him started years ago. He also has this obvious connection with his band members. It’s like this long friendship that weaves harmony within the songs.

People feel so comfortable when he’s singing, they get up and dance in the almost-no-floor room of the pub.

He's also the kind of performer my late grandmother would have gone googly over. In my dream, after the show, grandma pops in. I hold her hand. She has new legs.  She doesn't hold my hand because she has to.  We climb across the bleachers like teenagers to watch James perform. I tell her, "Watch this grandma. You will love this one." It's a sweet gift to visit with her again. I wake up wiping my eyes and damning my alarm clock.

Mid-way through the storytelling, I realized that he’s the kind of guy I can imagine sitting with on the front porch and listening to his stories for hours. And, I got the feeling he’d ask and listen to my stories too.

He says not all of his songs are sad. He has had some good times too. Though, most of his songs are about loss, the loss of love, the stupid things a man does and, of course, the songs where the man just can’t let go.

James "Slim" Hand

The gut of his music is raw gripping honesty. He sings the kind of stories where experience takes the story and sometimes the story makes the man.

True to his entrance, he stays after and shakes my hand. He shakes all of our hands. I can’t help but to tell this man I’ve never seen before directly, “I love your humility.”  It’s a performance and a presence I haven’t seen in such a long time that I find myself wiping away a tear too.

About twenty minutes later, a stirring duet of intimate lyrics take the stage with Dawn and Hawkes.

Dawn And Hawkes take the stage

The room this time is very different. The audience is much younger.

And, like with Hand, they are dedicated followers. I felt like I was sitting in the artists’ living room. It is so quiet I fear leaving as I might offend the new friends surrounding me.

Miranda Dawn and Chris Hawkes

When they are singing, often they don’t face the audience. They face each other as if they are making love with lyrics and you just happen to be in the same room. Gulp.

Every song is like lace and delicate detail and the joyous feeling of something special for the first time and never wanting to let it go.

The passion for this couple in the audience is strong as well. The couple knows their audience too- -literally. 

A humorous moment comes when Miranda says, “Oh, were you the person who requested this song last time?”  The brown-haired young person smiles from the inside out, "Yes!"

Miranda says, “We’ve played Polar Bears twice this year. This is the second time. Our first rock song and last rock song…”

Miranda's voice is this angelic mold. It’s like the sugared coating on Creme Brulee. I love it. I don’t want to break it. I want to treasure every note.

And the way Chris looks at her personifies love. She is his darling. She could do no wrong.

And, their lyrics are dripping with honey like the Song of Solomon.  They are celebrating the one-in-a-million moment of when the skies break open and the miracle of finding forever love happens.

One moment broke the silence when a woman just couldn’t stop talking loudly about her soccer game. Besides her game conversation, the room was so quiet, I could hear a chair scoot. 

People kept turning around to hear who just kept talking. Finally, an elegant gentleman who looked like my previous media professor, got up and told the lady with the brown hair who was talking to the lady with the short blonde hair to be quiet, please.

The lady didn’t quit immediately. Then, she made a flamboyant fit, circled about the room, and looked at everyone as she left dramatically. Her blonde entourage stopped to yell at my professor look-alike-turn-music hero. He responded with “Thank you for sharing. Thank you!” And, after they left the room, a chorus of clapping thanks for the gentleman soon followed.

And, of course, being so connected to the audience, Chris stopped singing to thank the man too. He said, “Thank you (he actually knew the man’s name); I saw what you did. Thank you!”

The couple also sang an amazing tribute to Prince with Cream and eventually Kiss and even the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air for those that “grew up in the 90s.”

By the time I have to leave, I felt guilty for leaving because well, I felt like part of the musical team. The acoustic story living room had become part of my story too.

These artists had been so vulnerable and open to tell their stories for me, and they didn't even know my name.

I felt strangely appreciated within this audience family, and I was reminded that maybe my skin doesn’t have to be so thick after all.