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On February 16th, 2025 m’lady and I embarked on a short drive down da bay to the community centre in tiny Victoria, BC (read: Behind Carbonear). A trad whistle player (and nice fellah besides) named Gerry Strong promotes the scattered concert in the small hall and though most don’t fall very close to my musical wheelhouse I am thankful for the few that do.
In this case the act was a duo, Matthew Byrne performing with Sherman Downey. I was wholly unfamiliar with Matthew Byrne but thanks to a thoughtful Xmas gift from my nephew and his wife I was in possession Sherman Downey’s album The Sun in Your Eyes* – which I quite liked – and I had been looking forward to a chance to see him live.
The community centre had about a hundred folding chairs set up – about half of which would eventually hold a ticket-buying butt – and we took a pair in the front row. In short order Gerry came out for a quick introduction and before the clock struck 7:05 the entertainers were entertaining.
As we would come to find out, both Byrne and Downey were solo performers who regularly toured together playing on each other’s songs. So back and forth it went, with Byrne taking turns strumming behind Downey’s self-penned character-driven song-stories in between Downey’s subtle guitar or keyboard accompaniment fleshing out Matthew Byrne’s booming traditional Irish ballads. And of course there was a lot of talking between songs. Like, a lot. I counted just seven songs in the first set – and we’re talking four-minute songs here – and perhaps eight in the second set. There was unquestionably more talking than playing and sure, I get it, but at the same time I would unreservedly sacrifice at least half of the chatter for another five or six songs.
Especially the Sherman Downey songs. Don’t get me wrong, Matthew Byrne is a heck of a singer and a solid guitar player with a mile of experience, but I guess I’m just more into the rhyming and bouncy idiosyncratic tales of the mundane that are Sherman Downey’s signature. He reminded me of a friendly Todd Snider with a waft of Jim Croce, and if that’s not my cuppa tea I’ll have a coffee.
There was no encore. We were home by 9:15.
*They also got us the first album released by The Fortunate Ones, so really, the two records by prominent NL artists was more of a welcoming gift for m’lady and I as we celebrated the first Christmas in our new Newfoundland home.
Todd Man Out 