47. Conal
CONAL
I’m pacing in our dressing room. The opening band did a good job of getting the audience warmed up, and they’ve just finished their final number of the night, so I’ve got that keyed-up energy that always hits me when it’s almost time to go onstage.
Getting it on with Hazel in the dressing room didn’t take the edge off at all; instead, it focused my energy, amplified it.
I can tell my brothers are feeling the same.
We grin at each other, sharing the anticipation, feeding off the rising tension that we’ll propel back out into the audience with every number.
All of this is happening because of Hazel. Sure, we would have put out some kind of album without her; we’re professionals, we work hard. But if we’re honest—and the three of us have talked about this over these past months—before Hazel, we were feeling trapped.
That’s the problem with success—it brings a lot of good things, but it boxes you in, too. People want you to keep delivering the same winning product, over and over. Audiences, yes, but especially record company executives.
It made it too easy to coast, to go for the sure thing instead of challenging ourselves and risking blowback. We still loved our music, loved connecting with audiences, but we were starting to get frustrated creatively.
And then Hazel swept into our lives like a breath of fresh air, and revitalized everything.
The new album hasn’t just been a commercial success; the music critics have had plenty of good things to say about it, too, with several mentioning how our sound has matured.
We never put a record out with critical success as our goal, but it’s nice when it happens, like the cherry on a sundae.
So it’s fitting that we’re introducing a new song tonight, during the concert … one that Hazel hasn’t heard yet.
She’s our muse, our light, our everything. We’ll never stop singing about her.