OLD SOUL INK

We stood outside in line for a while this afternoon before the door guy, an affable chap, came out to ask if any of us had reservations. Most of us did not.

"Tim's got a lot of guests tonight," he said, "But I think I'll be able to get you all in. Just hang tough."

And ten minutes later, my mom and I were being ushered in to a table, for which we'd not had reservations. I was seated next to a man who had to have been a cousin. He had to have been, because the only other option was for him to have been a Neil Finn impersonator from NZ, and that would have been just creepy.

It was a great show. He was in good spirits, he sounded great, he played beautifully. The piano at Largo has my favorite sort of piano voice: weathered, a bit worn around the edges, but tuned to perfection. He did a really fun version of I See Red, sort of R&B, loose and badass. He did a lovely, sweet, bouncy version of Couldn't Be Done, more fun than the studio version, and I was able to hear all the lyrics, which are great. Poor Boy was really cool and low-key done acoustically. The guy accompanying him on another guitar did well with that one. They also covered a Wilco song I've never heard. The very first verse had me in tears. In the middle of the song, as he played the piano, Tim asked if we knew the song. He said it was Wilco, and that the very first time he'd heard it, he'd burst into tears. He just learned it earlier today. It was gorgeous. I'm determined to find that song.

There was talk of rugby, of New Zealand, of his son and his dad and even of David Bowie (which really was like a special little treat for me). There was an encore. And, my friends, in between the songs and the encore, there was Tim Finn high-fiving me. For real.

It was a good show.