Mom wrote this regarding Dock Street 6, which she attended along with me, my little brother Andrew, and my best friend Tina. The fact that I'm posting it over a month after DS is entirely my fault. Sorry about that.

The JLC Dock Street weekend was much-anticipated by my three young travellers, a big part of the Christmas gifting by two families. I was along for the ride as driver, mother of two, and surrogate Mom for the third. For the three of them, the weekend was all they'd hoped for and more. Augmenting their pleasure, however, was having "Mom" become an enthusiastic new fan. As we discussed our reactions to the shows, my daughter suggested (a polite way to put it) that I share my own responses with other JLC fans. Well... doing this is sort of new for me, but here goes. Title this offering "The Revolving Gift"-- or, "Ululate, You Are Alive."

I had seen JLC for the first time, about a month before, at an acoustic show in Chapel Hill. My kids had been talking about the group since the preceding summer. They were eager for me to see JLC perform. I respect my kids' judgement in music, so I wasn't surprised that I truly enjoyed my own first exposure to the band. The music was fresh, unique, somehow "sparkly." The audience was mostly young adults who looked bright, interesting. After the delighted applause as Jump's show opened, the audience was at first sedate, attentive, still. Early on, however, bodies began to flow to the music; even where some concertgoers' senses of rhythm might be offbeat, bodily motions were accommodated by the rich complexity and interweaving of the music and lyrics. On briefly meeting the band members after the show, I was struck by how bright yet friendly and basically nice they all seemed to be. I was impressed. At the same time, I considered myself a "visitor." This was my kids' music, not really mine, and I was reluctant to intrude. It was in this spirit that I planned for and made the trip to Charleston from Winston- Salem, a bit daunted by the time and money involved but fully committed.

First Night:
I enjoy the show on stage even as I take in the audience. The audience is well-dressed and largely, relative to me, quite young. Our group is split up due to ticket issues, so at times I'm on my own. At intermission, I chat with two older women, my peers in age. One woman avidly remarks on how sexy the band members are, focusing in on Jay's leather pants and Matt's (often) sexy lyrics and fluid, acutely responsive motions. The other woman comments on how boy bands need to look in general. All these guys will do. (Boy bands!?) Well, I like these ladies, but I'm a bit bemused, feeling like they're missing something. Maybe it shows on my face. Anyway, the show resumes-- I now see the women really pay attention, begin to respond emotionally, tentatively move to the rhythms. They're beginning to get it. One woman looks stunned, reflective. She later says she wants to bring a young relative to the next night's show, not yet saying the obvious, that she's intrigued by this band herself-- why not just say so?

Well, this does appear to be some kind of rock band; these men are young, vibrantly alive, each one attractive, appealing in ways different from the others. Their apparent target audience is likewise young, perhaps leading those aged 35+ to feel awkward, afraid to appear to be having a mid-life crisis. This subtle distancing is present in many older faces. To be honest, I'm aware of this reaction in myself. And yet, I begin to discern qualities in this music that transcend temporal human features and open windows to the archetypal, the mystical, the eternal.

Upon reflection, I believe sensuality is the central gift of being human, a bridge between our earthly and ethereal being. Isn't it possible to recognize, honor, enjoy and absorb the many aspects of self with which this music resonates, putting age or other divisions aside, at the same time knowing the mature boundary: "you can look but you can't touch"? Hmmm...something to ponder.

Second night:
This show is surprisingly different from the first. The audience is somewhat older, more self- possessed. Still, the 35+ people around me look like visitors; the few I speak to say as much. They've been invited by some younger friend or relation. As the show begins, one can tell that this is a kind, generous, responsive audience. Even where the same songs are sung, there is a subtle shift in the emotional interpretation tonight, the players complementing one another in a fresh way, each one gifted and essential to the whole, in fact becoming more than whole. Their guest performers, present each night, sweeten the mix with their own gifts. The visual art and effects are fabulous, further tweaking the senses. For me, an internal click occurs. The intermixing of rich voice, versatile and fresh musical instrumentation, sharing of real griefs/joys/hopes, sensuality and spiritual mysticism converge on distant-seeing eyes as prayer. The music hall becomes holy ground. At encore on each night, the JLC players each offer individual pieces. Telemann -- Irish melodies -- Jazz -- Kermit the Frog's Rainbow Connection. Poignant familiarity sparks recognition and surrender in those still holding back. For some, there are cathartic tears. Spirit responds to spirit and all are renewed.

Third night:
There are conflicting emotions. Enjoyment is colored by fatigue, temper, impatience, expectancy. The hour or so before the show is kinda hard on Mom, who adds to the tension by managing to get lost on the way to the theatre! Anyway, we arrive, take our seats, my nerves frayed around the edges. Then, as the show begins, it seems to me that this may be the best show of all three nights. I settle in-- whoa! Somehow, the presence of glitches only adds to the delight of the audience and the spontaneity of the band. The audience is alive; the performers respond to the energy and, well, Wow!!! When the audience is given the opportunity to join in, their powerful musicality seems to surprise the performers. ("My God!..did we do this!?") Why, yes -- but then again, perhaps not completely. The music hall is vibrant, with an energy attributable not solely to the band, the audience, the acoustics. The sound resonates through the hall, the audience shrieking its delight. Not a shrieker by nature, I nonetheless find myself first doing arm gestures, then singing harmony, and later ululating in celebration of this entire group's communal passion. In a spirit of camaraderie, I'm informed by the young women nearest me to which band member I'm most drawn (a JLC member affiliation thing, I guess?). Well, who's to say, but I've enjoyed being with these people. I smile enigmatically....

In the aftermath of this spectacular final night, the massive onrush of enthused fans is overwhelming, particularly to the understandably exhausted players. Many longtime fans are distressed by the hasty retreat of most of the band. Jonny sticks around, offering viable explanations, while conveying that only the extensive packing-up required of the other band members has kept them from staying as well. In this, Jonny reflects a quality I perceive within the band as a whole. I sense them to be fundamentally good people, subject to human joys and challenges, energy and enervation, just like the rest of us. As we all must do, they need to take care of themselves.

I hear that after several years of ups, downs, transformations, JLC is now on the cusp of worldly success and fame. The band is facing tough questions regarding the forms their future will take-- questions only they can answer. Given my experience of them thus far, I offer the following observations:

I believe that we are each born for purposes beyond self-satisfaction. We are bound by drives, however deeply buried within us, to do what we can for humankind while we are alive. As I've heard it said and ultimately found to be true, one will find clarity of purpose where one's deepest joys meet the world's greatest needs. When these conditions exist, one senses that all creation is ecstatic and generously supportive. To me, JLC embodies the intelligence, artistry, sensitivity and spiritual vision emerging in increasing numbers in successive generations. For people of like mind who feel or once felt isolated, alienated, bereft, with perspectives out-of-step with most of the people people around them, JLC provides a much-needed anchor. For people of acute sensitivity and spiritual vision, who feel yearnings for the eternal, JLC acknowledges those pulls and yet represents and celebrates life. Seen this way, it makes sense that young people, often protective of their space as they solidify their own identities, are eagerly sharing JLC with people younger and older than themselves.

To me, life is a prayer; music and poetry are potent prayer vehicles. At its truest, whatever forms that truth has been and will take, JLC is a catalyst, a conduit for something beyond themselves. The eternal is not at a distance but all around us. Periodic glimpses reassure and nourish the perceiver, helping to clear obstacle's to one's own life path. I don't know but do sense that following their hearts, while utilizing practical wisdom, JLC will be as fruitful as the band could hope for...and more.