It was a drizzly dark night and finding parking was a bit challenging. But waiting in line with the others excited as we were to be there was worth it. When the doors opened we filed in early. We had time to stand in the mirrored foyer and look about us at the others of our tribe. Mostly older. Grey hair. Successful Conservative but definitely with a past. No doubt parents and grand parents about us. We smiled and were polite. Canadians. The excitement building till they let us in to our seats.
The stage backdrop was sun and moon. In the centre were guitars and a place for the master to sit. He came out to standing ovation. I was even a bit teary eyed. This great man, Gandalf like, a bit stooped with age and arthritis walking spiritedly onto the stage. taking his seat to open with a bit of blues. How simple and yet profound. Something like the blues has the world by the balls. He never shied from the profane in the power of his message. A fellow near us wore a t shirt. I wish I had a rocket launcher. Bruce Coburn’s brother served in the Canadian military. Bruce visited him in Afghanistan, the place where too many Canadian hero’s died. .A bit of a different take on Lennon’s ‘give peace a chance.’ I was a hippy once.
And this was the man who’d written of his Christian conversion experience, the gentle agnostic, instilled with the passion. A mystic and philosopher.
I heard his music first in the 70’s touched by the sound of his guitar. I’d been drawn to John Mayer years later in the same way. The virtuosity. Bruce Coburn is the master of guitar, like Ravi Shankar and the sitar.
We think of Lightfoot as our national poet coming out of the country folk tradition. Bruce Coburn came out of Ottawa with that laurentian urban suburban canadian sound.. I loved his Al Purdy song the poet I read in high school in Winnipeg where Guess Who gained fame. Joni Mitchell out of Saskatchewan with her unique guitar sounds as distinctive as Ry Cooder music to the southern US.A uniqueness of sound . I don’t even remember what Coburn song it was that guitar I heard that resonated with my own Canadian conscious and spoke of the genius of strings that I associate with symphony.
Tonight I thought often that his guitar had that multiple personality disorder thing going. I have no idea how he does it but the sounds were singing out of that instrument like a choir. Truly a master musician who coupled words and music with his gift for guitar. I imagined his guitars are very happy. Joyful even.
His own distinctive voice and lyrics were mesmerizing. I was just thankful to be there. Thankful to be back in the Centre for the performing arts where I’d heard ‘Driving my Indian Car’ and ‘I scare myself awake ‘songs by native folk singer so many years ago.
Laura was happy this night. I’d look over at her face and see her smiling. We’re growing old together and enjoy the wisdom in the words of this man who was so observant in his songs commenting on people and places, singing memories of eras past.
Some kind of ecstasy has a hold on me. Wondering where the lions are. Wondering where the lions are. That was the song so many years ago that lifted me out of some moment of despair. There after when it came on the radio .and it did so often. my soul like a child within, danced. I felt the joy again. That one song worth the night drive in the dark and rain. I’d known he’d sing it. That or Lovers in a Desperate Time. Those were always my favourites. And it was worth it. Some kind of ecstasy has a hold on me.
Well we sang along. Wondering where the lions are. Wondering lions are. We all stood and applauded long and hard for an encore. He came out and played again. A trooper. Serving the packed hall. We applauded long after he’d gone.
Holding Laura close we moved with the crowd to the dark and drizzling night. I found the car and drove home to our waiting dog. I’ve been listening to Bruce Coburn 50 years or more and finally got to see him in person. It was worth the wait . Just to hear him play guitar. His style and the sounds it made were quite impossible but truly spiritual. We’d been in the presence of grace and majesty. An unmistakable moment with the divine. Faces glowed in the foyer. I felt closer to Laura and closer to God coming home. It was going to be okay.
Thank you Bruce Coburn for your talent skill genius hard work and discipline. Thank you for your calling. Thank you for an unforgettable evening.
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