This past Wednesday evening, I had the privilege of seeing and hearing Canadian singer-songwriter Ron Sexsmith perform at City Winery in Boston. This marked his first public performance in the United States since 2015.
It also marked Sexsmith's first performance in the Boston area in a decade when he played at the now defunct T.T. the Bear's in Cambridge. Sexsmith was genuinely surprised at how many people turned out to see him. He made a point of telling the audience that he asked to make Boston the first stop of his U.S. tour because if he made any mistakes then there would be hardly anyone around to notice as his Boston concerts had always been sparsely attended.
In the early part of the show, however, Sexsmith noticed problems with the feedback on his guitar and he made a point of asking his wife Colleen Hixenbaugh (a musician in her own right) to find a new battery for his amp. After she retrieved the amp and installed it, Sexsmith quipped, "My wife wants me to succeed." The way in which he deadpanned that sentence made it absolutely hilarious.
Sexsmith repeatedly apologized for the technical problems, but he need not have done so. He is a songwriter's songwriter and his catalogue of songs stretching back more than three decades is well worth the price of admission. Among the highlights of the evening were "Pretty Little Cemetry", "Lebanon, Tennessee", "Gold in Them Hills", "In a Flash" and "Whatever It Takes" along with three songs from his new album The Vivian Line ("What I Had in Mind", When Our Love Was New" and "Diamond Wave").
This was my fourth time seeing Sexsmith in concert but first time since August 2001. Sexsmith first came to my attention on a 1995 tribute album to Harry Nilsson called For The Love of Harry: Everyone Sings Nilsson. The highlight of this album was Sexsmith's cover of "Good Old Desk."
The first time I saw Sexsmith in concert was at the Great Canadian Theatre Company in Ottawa in 1999. Sexsmith made a point of telling the audience he was taking requests. I immediately shouted, "Good Old Desk". He retorted, "It has to be a song I wrote." But this did not deter me. He gave in and I soon realized why he did not want to play the song - he forgot the lyrics. Fortunately, I was there to shout the next verse, "Such a comfort to know," and the show went on.
Sexsmith would play "Good Old Desk" for me the following year at a club in Somerville known as Lily's (which is now a Brazilian restaurant called Samba Bar and Grille) a few months after I moved to Boston. However, when I renewed the request at an outdoor concert at the Greek Festival in Toronto in August 2001, Sexsmith said, "I don't know that song."
We have been in sporadic communication first on Twitter and now on Facebook over the past several years and I warned him that I would be requesting "Good Old Desk" from the front row. When I summoned up the courage to make the request he told me, "I'll have to do it from muscle memory." I told him I'd be here if he needed me.
Alas, Sexsmith did not play "Good Old Desk". It didn't bother me because it was clear to me that Sexsmith was nervous throughout the performance with the guitar troubles fresh on his mind the last thing that he wanted to do was forget the lyrics. I said as much to him after show. "Oh, shit!!! I forgot. I made a mental note but there were so many other requests."
Sexsmith added that he last played "Good Old Desk" at City Winery in New York in 2014 accompanied by a barbershop quartet. That would have been a sight and sound to behold. "Next time," he promised.
Hopefully, next time won't be 20 years between concerts.
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