There were some women milling about all over the place. Jody’s audiences typically sat or walked around socializing, knowing she wouldn’t be offended. But when Jody started off with the new arrangement of ”Seems Like Forever,” just about everyone packed the area in front of her to watch, listen, and dance.

Jody hadn’t changed the arrangement as much as she did her playing. She ”dirtied” up her sound: instead of intricate picking, she played full chords and changed her mix on the sound to get more bass. And her voice. Jody’s voice was losing the crystal clearness that came only from restraint. As Jody felt the vocal build, she was able to get a more throaty, soulful sound.

Within the first verse, Jody noticed the attention she was getting, and she was ok with it. It felt natural. By the next song, she found herself stripping down chord changes, and throwing in some lead picking only when required. Jody felt the purification of her music. She was scraping off the polish and politeness and uncovering the throbbing heart that was buried underneath. She was back to the roots she started with over 10 years earlier when she first started playing as a freshman in college. Basic chords, guts, and desire–desire to get her feelings into lyrics and play them to an audience she cared about propelled her from three chord rock to accomplished musician.

Jody felt herself rocking with the songs, playing them loud and hard. As she stormed through the set, everyone in the house was shouting her on and dancing. She especially loved watching them dance. It had been so long since people danced to her music. She looked over to Sharon in mid song and just beamed from ear to ear.

Jody peeled off her sweat-drenched jacket, rolled up the sleeves. Everyone was buzzing. Jody had the house rocking and their energy, in turn, fed back into her.

”Thanks a lot.” Jody adjusted the mike and cleared her throat. She needed to do some talking, some explaining–she needed to connect with these people who were so clearly connecting with her music.

”I guess some of you notice a little difference in the second set tonight.” Everyone laughed at the understatement.       ”Well, some things have changed for me lately,” she took a deep breath to let them in on the secret. ”A few months back, I was recording the CD many of you picked up tonight. I hadn’t finished the vocal for `The Question’, but I was out of studio time. I had one last shot to do it and do it right. Somehow, under pressure, something came out of me that hadn’t happened in a long time. I found myself getting back to the basics of my music and my lyrics, and I found an emotion, a passion, that had been gone for far too long in my performing.” Everyone was riveted. Jody spoke slowly and sincerely, and made each person feel as if they experienced the moment with her. ”So my engineer said, `You’ve got one last shot at the vocal, Jo. Make it count.’ This is what happened . . .” She played ”The Question” with the gut wrenching vocals she rediscovered that day in the studio.

She had them in the palm of her hand. Jody played it slowly, but played it with such heart, that it felt like the first time she had played it in Garbo’s, seven years earlier.

They hung on her every word and then to each note as she picked the strings to a gentle ending. There was silence. Then all hell broke loose. Thunderous applause mixed with whistles and yelling as Jody took off her guitar. She finished her second set.

She was swarmed by everyone, but the first one to her was Trish who hugged her hard and said, ”Shit, you’re just full of surprises these days.” Then, she held Jody at arms length, looked her straight in the eye, and said, ”You are going to tear the house down opening for Casey Evans.”

Jody smiled, and before she could say a word, they were interrupted. Everyone wanted to get close. It had been a long time since she had seen attention like this, and Jody liked it.