Glory Bound

Last night, I again experienced the brilliance and wonder of seeing Martin Sexton live. Let me regale you with tales of the journey...

Upon hitting traffic on 275, then onto 75, the way was clear after getting past the Florence Mall exit. The rain hindered the journey a bit, but once to Crittenden, the rain stopped. Arrived in Lexington a little before 7pm.

For dinner, stopped into Taste of Thai for some Spring Roll and other tasty dishes. On the walk from the parking garage to the restaurant, I looked in the door of the venue to see Martin warming up, doing his sound check. I wanted to rush the stage right then! Alas, I continued on toward the restaurant and settled in with some tofu Pad Sea Ewe. Halfway during the meal, I looked up to see Martin walking to his car/trailer. The rest of dinner, I was on Martin-Watch as he hunkered down in his SUV and waited for his show to begin. Then came the fortune cookie with the check. Here was my fortune. Hm. Interesting.


The show began at 9pm, with an opening band who really kinda sucked. They were called The Trevor Hall Band. They had me for about three songs, but a girl can only take so much reggae-induced sound. They were a three-piece, with a bassist who couldn't realize that his instrument was drowning out the rest of his bandmates. The lead singer (I'm assuming Trevor, himself) had horrible technique (the voice teacher never sleeps), and even worse stage presence. He looked to be about 15, and about as big around as my ever-decreasing-in-size thigh. They played for 50 minutes of Hell, and then it was time for the big show.

Martin Sexton is a small but mighty man. He comes to about 5'3 or so, with this huge barrel-chest and Popeye like arms. He walked out on stage, just him and his guitar, to see a crowd of maybe 100 people, and opened his set with Candy. There is something so moving about seeing a room full of people from all walks of life singing that first line "Hey little jailbait, tell me your story". A chorus of strangers, all coming together, being struck by the music of one man. It was a great moment.

He played just about every song I've ever heard him record, including his own (not Handel's) Hallelujah. He got us to sing the chorus, then yelled out "In harmony, fools!" when the entirely too-drunk crowd couldn't find their pitches. During a fast boogie, he had to stop and instruct the audience to clap on the off-beat and not on. Martin often has two mics on stage. One being his regular mic, the other which is attached to an effects pedal. One of the coolest things about seeing him live is that he'll often distort his own voice, or give his voice an echo effect, which he did quite often during the night. He used this mic when he did a cover of Pink Floyd's Welcome to the Machine, which was really stellar. He ended his two-hour set with This little light of mine, and thanked us, his "Brothers and sisters" for coming out on a cold, rainy Tuesday.

I'm so elated this morning, being able to see him again after nearly six years. It fit my ever-changing thoughts during the past week perfectly. Definately worth not getting home until 1am.