Oh, Brother!

Re-printed for Dianne of the Bad Day Clan


Last Thursday, I walked around work smiling and gloriously energetic. I received a raised brow question from my co-workers. The question implied was, “You’re cheerier and perkier then usual. What gives, woman?”

I answered.

“I have tomorrow off.” This alone instilled a mood of envy in the room. I was escaping cubicles, computers and customers for a day. In the middle of summer. On a Friday. Oh, the envy…

“What are you going to do?” Hmmm, char some meat on a grill, shop or maybe lay about like a lump of human clay waiting for inspiration to make something of me?

"I’m going to see Brother at Rainbow Summer. Twice.” Now the room had an audible form of envy I’ve rarely had reason to encounter. I was on the verge of giggling as I answered questions and received requests. Pictures and cd’s, when are they playing next and do you think it would be strange if we all called in sick tomorrow?

When I drove home from work that afternoon, the rain came down so hard that with the windshield wipers set on hyper-speed all they managed to do was give the lightning a heightened strobe effect. As I drove farther south, it got clearer and I started looking for a rainbow. I found it in the east and that sealed my fate as a grinning fool.

The next morning, I was instantly awake when the sun started to shine into my room. I hurriedly packed, not bothering to add books to my duffel bag because I wouldn’t crack a spine all weekend. Except my own. I was uncommonly worry free.

Leaving the Jordan casa late morning with plenty of time to spare, Ruth and I made our way across what was the 6th Street viaduct. I was happy because I was no longer being attacked by mama gulls protecting their broods as I cross the regal bridge. Ruth was happy because she was walking, not working. Under the sun, not incandescent bulbs. We were free and cheery and we were about to enter the joy zone.

As we approached the tree lined stage area, children ran around chasing butterflies and grown-ups ran around chasing each other. Bliss took residence in this small part of Milwaukee and it laid out the welcome mat.

As the noon hour approached, the blossom-like Dianne joined us and half the city. This crowd personified the word eclectic. There were suits on their lunch hour (I suspected they’d be late getting back), soccer moms, long hairs, no hairs, rich, poor and all shades of green in between. All sat in keen anticipation.

Why?

Let me get to the point.

Happiness is not a state of mind, something you find turning the right corner on the right street or finding the right person, job, car, or object of your choice. Happiness is a decision you make. No matter what you’ve been through, someone in the world has gone through worse and come through it with compassion. They’ve decided to be happy because they’re still alive in the chaos. They’re still striving in the muck of the day to day.

This band has survived a car crash that nearly took their lives, thrive in an existence of constant touring and make brilliant magical music that can lift the haze from a heavy heart. Their performance on the day of the World Trade Towers attack has gone down in local Milwaukee lore as a unifying and healing performance amidst deep sorrow. People held each other with the music keeping them whole and hopeful. This band is welcomed as brothers of everyone, everywhere, as often as possible.

And when they walk onstage, happiness is a forgone conclusion.

Let me lift a quote from their website, as they explain it better than I can.

"Whether on disc or live, our motivation is simple: to create the biggest bloody buzz possible between our music and our audience," says Hamish Richardson, who with sibling, Angus, shares frontman duties for Brother. "We just let the music speak for itself and trust our audiences to surrender themselves."

First on stage is the newest member Philly-born Derek 'Dez' Stewart on keyboards, harmonica, sampling mayhem and a twist of rap. Drummer T Xiques enters from stage left and quietly takes to the drums; belying the force of the music hurricane he is about to produce. Hamish Richardson soon romances the stage; playing alternatively the didgeridoo, bagpipes and guitar as brother Angus roots the band with bass, bagpipes and acoustic. Rounding them out is the strings chameleon, Rick Kurek, lavishing love with his cello and electric guitars. I should say all of these instruments were not played by everyone, at the same time. But, at times, I think that all onstage were like multi-armed Shiva’s bent on creation.

It took not even a full minute for them to hit a groove and for the audience to follow along. As the international bards of musical integration played, the crowd swayed, smiled and danced along. Looking to my left there was a middle-aged woman in full business attire, cutting a groove Madonna would envy. To my right were two fellow work castaways singing along with every word. Behind me was an older couple holding hands and keeping the beat with their feet. In front of me was a boy of about three or four dancing on his mama’s lap. Everyone was beaming.

After the first show, Ruth, Dianne and I bought cd’s and waited in line to have them signed. The group was surrounded. They were given drawings by children and gratitude from everyone. I, of course, made a complete ass of myself as they signed my cd’s. They were smiling and gracious and amused.

We left, knowing we’d be back in a few hours for the night show. We made sure we got there two hours earlier to ensure good seats. We were not the only ones. This group instills deep devotion in their fans.

When the band climbed onstage once again, the feeling in the air was electric. They asked very nicely if people would like to come to the front of the stage and let go… you know, dance! We made our way down there like a pack of puppies that just heard the kibble bowl being filled. I got off my butt and danced for the first time in years. At one point, the band brought a couple onstage. It took little encouragement for the gentleman to got down on bended knee and propose to the very surprised and assenting lady. The wonderful men onstage had sanctioned our release from shyness, passivity and solitude. We were surrounded by about a thousand of our closest friends as we danced and jumped and sang. The band put all they had into their music and then gave it to us. It was a beautiful gift.

I’ll lift another quote from Hamish Richardson to enlighten. "Brother first-timers often approach the band, fist to their chest and say: I really felt it here. Nothing defines our music better than that."

I felt it there. I made my way through the throng afterwards to express my heart-felt gratitude. I got a hug for my efforts. These are giving, generous and genuine people.

Two days afterward, I play their music, and I still feel it. In my calves, which are sore as hell after dancing and jumping like a kid for hours. And I’ve decided to be happy.




It is here that I mention that a woman in front of me took two rolls of film of this man's(Hamish Richardson) ass. I'm there for the music. I have a strong idea what she's there for.