Edwin McCain, Columbus, OH, Promowest Pavilion, March 17, 2004
Seeing Edwin McCain live was much like going to a grammar school dance. The music is soft and at times sappy, those in attendance are sitting at tables with drinks in front of them, while only a mere few strike a pose on the dance floor. And the rest, well, they are pressed against the wall with a beverage in hand looking to make a move for a dancemate, but never quite getting up the courage. Until, of course, the chords from on stage strike up the beginnings of “I’ll Be.” Then, the dance floor becomes filled with bodies, most pressed together like a peanut butter and honey sandwich, while others, who found each other only because the song drew them together, sway with a bit more space between them.

McCain and his band put on a less than extravagant show, but that is exactly what would be expected. The band was tight, McCain was dressed more like he was going to work in a factory than playing a concert, and the music was as soulful and generous as a plate passed around at church.

The hour and a half set flew by like those dances we went to when we were younger. While there, the night seems to last forever until you meet that one person to dance with, or make that first slight bit of eye contact that keeps you up at night wondering why you didn’t make your move when you had the chance. McCain and his music are able to bring all that out like a flashback in a cheesy Wayne’s World skit. Almost hearing Mike Meyers make those goofy sounds as his hands wave through the air up and down like wave pool’s shadow on the wall, McCain’s lyrics are as meaningful to himself as they are to the fans.

Topping off the night was seeing a mother and daughter together. The mom in her mid-30s, what a typical McCain fan would seem to be. The daughter, much younger, maybe 11 or 12, an age where most daughters would sooner curl up and turn to dust than be seen at a concert with her mom, let alone dance and sign together. But these two were slow dancing, serenading and cheering together like two girlfriends getting together for drinks at happy hour.

That is what Edwin McCain is able to bring to the table each and every night, and song after song. His songs resonate with people because they are songs for the people, about the people. McCain, like that grammar school dance, is able to stick in your memory like glue on a desk. Whenever you hear his songs or voice, the transformation is easily made to where you first heard it. For some there, it may have been a school dance, for elders like me, it usually dealt with relationships and not always positive. But McCain ‘s lyrics paint a picture to help people through those times. And those in attendance were thankful to one more time be reminded of their fond memories with McCain playing the soundtrack.