After two hours the time neared. The Large Band minus Lyle performed a rousing version of “She Makes Me Feel Good.” Without Lyle’s lead, but with the back up singers’ punctuations, the song took on a jazzy, New Orleans style improv.

Too quickly the performers left and the sound check was over. Then the rains came.

Two hours standing in the freaking heat and we’re going to get rained out. Many ran for cover, but I refused. No way was I going to lose my seat after getting fried like a worm on Sunday.

The rains let up and soon enough Lyle came out to play.

The show started softly with just Lyle with an acoustic guitar and a John Hagen on cello playing the tender ballad “Don’t Cry a Tear,” and then a cowboy song that I’d never heard before.

Slowly the rest of the band came out, adding new members after each song. The effect was quite dramatic as the number of performers increased and the music took on an increasingly bigger sound and feel.

The performers truly showcased Lyle’s different styles as a songwriter. The back up singers added a gospel feel, the horns brought in jazz and swing, and the mandolin player from the Chieftains brought old style bluegrass along. Lyle was at home in all of these settings.

The between song banter was priceless. As with many of his songs, Lyle has a dry, wry delivery that elevates everything that comes out of his mouth. At one point he decided, for whatever reason, a portion of his audience was of the Lutheran faith. After discussing this idea for a bit he threw out this little nugget:

“Do you know why Lutherans are against pre-marital sex?  They think it will lead to dancing.”

Late in the set he introduced the entire band, then for his own introduction spoke, “I’m the guy who sits next to you,” which is the first line of the song “Here I Am” to which the band promptly joined in for a marvelous, souped up rendition.

As is the way things go for my concert attending, the audience wasn’t always into what was happening onstage. There was quite of bit of rambling chit chat going on when a middle aged lady walking past noticed what must have been a long lost friend. With a squeal usually reserved for pigs at a trough, she ran up the steps hugged said friend and they both began to reminisce with great volume.

There was no attempt at moving someplace where there chatter might not annoy. In fact, the first lady kind of pushed the innocent fellow sitting nearby out of her way. The squealing and the loudness continued for two songs when lady # 1 finally left.
Not but minutes later the young man sitting next to me received a phone call on his cellular and chatted through yet another song. Having seen that he can get away with loudness he began discussing the concert in progress with the lady next to him.