Huge Room

You probably can't see them in the dark, but there were people there at all those tables.

I couldn't see them either. When the lights are on you, you can't see very far ahead. Past the first row of tables, it's all fuzzy and black. You rely on the sound of applause.

My show at Hugh's Room went really well. But before the show, I was very nervous. It's unusual for me to get nervous these days, so I was annoyed at myself, which made me even more nervous. What was I nervous about? I couldn't really tell. Nothing really...and everything. Who'd show up, who wouldn't, how I'd sound...all those things, but mostly, whether I really belonged there.

It's funny...you work so hard to get to "the next level" (whatever it happens to be at the time) and then when you're there, you think maybe it's all a big mistake.

Anyway, I didn't feel like my usual confident self, and suddenly I felt a strong kinship with Carly Simon and Barbra Streisand, both of whom had stage-fright problems. (Today, 48 hours later, "Memories" has been going through my head. I'm sure that's why.)

Part of the problem was that I had not pre-planned the "before-show" time period. I had carefully mapped out every other part of the day, but had ignored the two-and-a-half hours between sound check and curtain time. As it turns out, two-and-a-half hours is a very long time, especially when you're too nervous to eat anything but a protein bar. The guitar player, Eric, kindly accompanied me to a used record store and then a cafe to kill time.

When we returned, the room was filling up, so in order to avoid socializing nervously with friends and fans before the show, I was forced to spend time wringing my hands in the little anteroom behind the club's administrative offices (which is to say, a bad place to look like a complete wreck). Just then, my producer and bass player David mentioned that I could go outside to the roof.

The roof? Where? I was practically sprinting towards it.

He led me along a zig-zag corridor through the kitchen, where the staff were merrily preparing food and listening to some other kind of music, completely oblivious to my panic.

And then, out the doorway, there it was: a blessedly open rooftop deck...the kind you find in back of so many Toronto houses, apparently even those that have been turned into restaurants.

It was cold on the rooftop, but I could pace and sing, freely and without being noticed.

Also, I could notice the moon, which was almost full, and the stars clearly visible above the city's glow. I was shivering, but I stayed as long as I could, singing for awhile but then just standing still and watching the real stars, which put my own reaching upward into perspective.