Who would have ever guessed that I would become the front man for a band?
Certainly not me.
In fact, if you had told me a few years ago that I would be standing on a stage, singing my own songs, playing guitar, trying to remember lyrics and attempting to keep three musicians moving in the same direction, I probably would have questioned your sanity.
And yet, here we are.
One of the things I have discovered since coming into music later in life is that there are a lot more possibilities than I ever imagined.
Apparently, I am also very good at volunteering for things before fully understanding what I have volunteered for.
Over the years, I have tried to join various bands, with limited success. Musicians are an interesting breed. Getting a group of musicians to agree on what to play, when to rehearse and what key to play it in can sometimes feel like negotiating a peace treaty.
And like lawyers, musicians generally don't appreciate being told that they are wrong.
As I became more and more of a songwriter, I eventually realized—with considerable encouragement from my lovely wife—that I would probably be happiest forming a band around me and my songs.
That doesn't mean we don't play covers. We do.
It doesn't mean we don't play songs written by other members of the band. We do that, too.
But the focus is my music.
Which created a small problem.
If these were going to be my songs, I was going to have to be out front.
I was going to have to be the front man.
Now, I've spent more than 40 years as a trial lawyer. I've stood in front of judges and juries most of my adult life.
I'm comfortable in front of a crowd.
I know how to tell a story.
I know how to read a room.
I know how to keep talking when things aren't going exactly according to plan.
Those skills have actually transferred pretty well to the stage.
Unfortunately, that's where the similarities end.
As a trial lawyer, nobody expected me to sing.
Nobody expected me to play guitar.
Nobody expected me to remember 40 verses of lyrics while simultaneously trying to stay on beat.
And, perhaps most importantly, the jury didn't care if I missed a chord.
Being the front man turns out to be a little more complicated than simply standing in front of the band.
I have to sing.
I have to play guitar.
I have to remember the words.
I have to remember the chords.
I have to stay on beat.
I have to watch the other musicians.
I have to figure out what song comes next.
And apparently, I'm also supposed to look like I'm having fun.
All while trying not to make the facial expression of a guy desperately trying to remember the second verse.
Then there is the audience.
As the front man, I have some responsibility for keeping the energy up and keeping people engaged. I have to tell the stories behind the songs, interact with the audience and occasionally say something interesting between songs.
That last part is particularly challenging because musicians have a strange tendency to become completely fascinated with technical discussions that nobody in the audience cares about.
"We're going to do this one in A instead of G because..."
Nobody cares.
Play the song, Mike.
We're getting better at it.
As we get more comfortable playing together and start taking on bigger venues, I've discovered that being the front man is becoming a bigger part of what I do.
And I'm enjoying it.
It's another one of those things I never expected to be doing at this stage of my life.
A few years ago, I was mostly thinking about practicing guitar, learning songs and figuring out how to write better music.
Now I'm thinking about stage presence, set lists, audience engagement and how to keep a band moving in the same direction.
Somewhere along the way, I apparently became the guy standing in front.
I'm still learning.
I'm still occasionally forgetting a word.
I'm still trying to play guitar, sing, stay on beat and remember what comes next.
But that's part of the adventure.
I've learned that coming into music late in life doesn't mean you've missed your opportunity.
It may simply mean that you have no idea what you're getting yourself into.
And sometimes, that's the best part.
So here I am.
A former trial lawyer.
A songwriter.
A guitar player.
And, apparently, a front man.
Follow along and let's see how this turns out.