Saturday my wife, Roslyn, and I saw four women perform at Common Ground. They call themselves the Woodstock Ladies' Auxiliary Singing Club, a.k.a. the Goosebumps, a.k.a. the Saladheads. One is a doctor, two are professional musicians--one married my first cousin--and I'm not sure about the fourth. These putative names belie their entirely professional demeanor and talent. Yes, they were quite fun. But the music ranged from sacred to zany, and was all quite beautiful.

Part way through the first set, Valerie Ghent performed a solo piece called "With You" at the piano, which she dedicated to her father. Its subject was the presence of those who have passed away. It blew me away. It opened with a slow and very simple progression of four three-note piano chords, with two of the three notes the same for all four chords, each chord played one ascending note at a time. This she repeated several times. Then she started singing on top of this melody. I thought, "There's nowhere for her to hide!" She sang powerfully, dynamically, intimately, ranging over at least two octaves, maybe three. Gradually she embellished the piano playing until it was a full-fledged accompaniment. When she finished, it was difficult as a listener for me to go back to their other music, as exquisite as it was, that comprised the rest of their show.

At the break between sets, I told her how impressed I was. So did my brother, who was as blown away as I. Turns out her father died a month ago, although she had written it nine months earlier. She didn't say so in the dedication because she was afraid she'd break into tears and be unable to finish the piece if she did. When I made the comment that there was no place to hide, she told me she had started out with a big back-up band, then gradually shed more and more players, till it came time for her to go solo. When she finally did, she said those exact same words had come to her about how it felt.

Very rarely do I react to a performer like that. My reactions are not usually typical. The last time I remember doing so was the first time I heard Martin Sexton at the Falcon Ridge Folk Festival in 1996. The only thing I didn't like of his was a song called, "Diner," which is the one that was getting all the air play. To me it was entirely unrepresentative of his style, which I loved. BTW, he too came to Common Ground, probably the following season.