Freckles and Misery

I went to see Laura Cantrell singing on Friday night. I've been trying to write something about it ever since, but I'm sort of scared I'll ruin the magic with some ill-chosen cheesy words. I could list all the things that were great about her (mostly coming down to her being a lovely, lovely, lovely woman with astonishing poise, warmth, tender song-writing skills and a lovely, lovely, lovely voice) but I don't really want to miss the point through over-analysis.

One of my favourites of her songs is one that reminds me of a particular person and a time. The who, or what, or why isn't terribly important but I had wondered if I would feel a bit wistful and sad if she performed it. Does it sounds stupid to say that seeing her perform live was such a beautiful experience that it felt that none of that mattered? Or maybe that everything mattered? Gosh, I'm trying to say that listening to her made me feel sort of like everything was going to be alright. I left feeling full of enthusiasm not just for her music but for everything beyond that too. Maybe all great music makes us feel like that, but I know I haven't felt that way for a very long time.

Ill-chosen, cheesy worded message ends.