I beg you please, please, just let me inside your world again.
The drums pick up pace. The music rushes into a crescendo.
I see a passion in you…
I see a passion in you…
Oh, I see that passion in you.
Bass note slams. Drums crash. Fiona flourishes with her keys as we swing into the chorus.
You ain’t no fool for love songs.
But you sure made a happy fool outta me…
And I know I’ll spend the rest of my days
Chasin’ that version of me you see.
‘Cause I’m a fool for you, love song.
Just a happy fool for you, love song.
Only for you, for you, for you…
Yeah, you ain’t no fool.
Feet pound the floor of the pavilion, and I feel it like a second heartbeat. This little audience of no more than fifty or so Spruce folk and crew sound bigger than any crowd I’ve ever played for, with all this love and enthusiasm they pour back into us.
Even if TJ’s face is the only one I see, clapping along when the audience really gets into it, giving me all his gorgeous smile, all his adorable sass—every bit of the kindling that started this way back.
I see a passion in you…Oh I see that passion in you…
TJ blows me a kiss.
I grin back like an idiot and blow one back.
Yeah, you ain’t no fool.
The music gets carried away. None of us seem ready to let it end. Fiona keeps riffing off the chorus, inspiring all of us to do one more round of it, Raj picking up the drums even stronger the next time around. Wily does some sick stuff on the bass, and it’s like the song has become alive, a mind of its own, dancing wildly on the stage as everyone in the audience claps along and screams, right there with us, along for the ride.
It’s just like the Saltshaker, back in my first days.
Happy drunks. Feeling the music flowing through their veins as they give in to it, letting loose, dancing like fools.
Not a trouble in the world can touch them.
Grabbing hands with people they don’t know. Do-si-do. Grins that stretch over faces. Laughter in the air. Even the people who don’t dare dance get to their feet, feeling every beat of the drum, living through every string and chord pouring off the stage.
This is what I live for. This is why I exist.
This is why I write.
When “No Fool For Love Songs” comes to a glorious, crashing crescendo at its conclusion, the audience is screaming so loud that I have to take a second to wonder if it’s real. I stagger backwards, our last chords lingering in the air, and peer at my bandmates, all of them similarly stunned by the reception.
There’s no telling how many people we’re really playing to.
How many lonely souls on their couches. In their beds. On the road with us streaming through their radios or phones.