The Sunday Musician

So there we stood, having rehearsed with the great one, but all of us wondering why he’d come across…downright depressed. This is what I found out later: Doug picked him up at the airport, drove the 45 minutes back to our town, then couldn’t find the church.

Apparently they drove around for at least half an hour while Doug sputtered and mumbled and rambled around Holland’s south side. So here Phil is, talked into playing with a bunch of local guys, the guy who called for the set list sounded like a hanger-on, wannabe rockstar, the guy who’s promoting the thing can’t find the venue, and then Phil finds out for the first time that he’s leading a guitar clinic that afternoon. Apparently he found out on the drive from the airport that 40 or 50 guitarists had paid for a two hour workshop scheduled for that afternoon, led by him. I have a hard time believing Doug never mentioned it, but Phil had to, I mean he had to be thinking the evening was going downhill faster than a gravel truck with no brakes.

So evening comes, people are filing in, Mr. Keaggy is done with his guitar clinic ordeal, he’s had a good meal, and we all go into a side room to pray. This time, Phil is ON. He’s bubbly, talkative, ready to rock. He tells us how good we sound, and I’m thinking, “Look-it what I’m doin’!” Phil keeps calling me ‘Mike’.

The first set was all acoustic, so I sat down in the auditorium to watch. As people were walking by, finding their seats, a guy comes up to me and says, “Hey Ed!” I looked up and blurted out, “I thought you were dead!” The last time I’d seen this guy he had maybe six months to live, some kind of inoperable brain tumor. But there he was, four years later, looking great. I’m subtle like that.

The acoustic set slid by, and intermission found me hanging around at the bottom of the steps up to the platform. It was a little surreal. We walked up, people were yelling and whistling and clapping, and there I was – right onstage with Phil Keaggy. It becomes a blur after that, but I do remember at one point he walked over to me and we did a short call-and-answer exchange. I wish I could say it was one of the most satisfying musical experiences I ever had, but honestly...I was in over my head by about 20 percent. I kept up, I played well, but I wasn't just playing from the heart, reacting to the moments, at least not a whole lot. The six songs flew by, and we were done. We walked offstage to the left, the crowd was roaring, and when we got into the little side room, we realized there was no way out. We’d walked into a storage room. So there we stood, and finally Phil says, “I guess I’ll go around outside,” and pushes open the door to the outside.

The four of us stood in the back room and didn't know what to do.  The audience was clapping in unison, calling for an encore, but Phil was by now probably already half way around the building.  If we walked out then, without Phil, there'd be the awkward moment as the audience applauded, then realized Phil wasn't coming back.  Waiting ten minutes would just be lame.  Suddenly the crowd noise swells up into a roar, and there’s a knock at the same door Keaggy just went out.  It was Phil.

He’d walked up the grassy hill behind the auditorium, not realizing he was in plain view of the audience, who could see him through the huge 15-foot windows. When the crowd started cheering, he’d heard them through the glass, waved back, and then turned around.

We let him in and walked back up the stairs and onto the stage. I gotta say – that was a LOT of fun, walking back up behind him onto the stage, the crowd going nuts. He said, “Well…what do we know? What’re we going to do? Green Onions?” We ended up doing Dylan’s ‘Gotta Serve Somebody”.

Afterward I wanted to talk with him, but realized I didn’t have anything to say and that I’d only be going to beg for a compliment.  About three weeks later Doug got a call from Phil: “Tell your guys they did really good, and I’m sorry I wasn’t more engaging. It was the last night before vacation, and I’d been out touring a long time. I had a lot of fun.”

As far as I know, not ONE picture exists of me onstage that night. You’ll just have to take my word for it.