Celtic Thunder Bowls Fans Over on October 14 at Erie, PA's Warner Theater

It's hard to believe that it's been less than a year since I first became acquainted with Celtic Thunder. I'd heard the band's name before, but I didn't experience them for myself until last December. Since then, they've come to feel very familiar. Paternal George Donaldson, the Scotsman, bald and beautiful, with a rumbling voice as warm as his smile. Dashing Ryan Kelly, dark and dangerous, yet exquisitely profound in songs that strip him of the bad boy persona. Humble Paul Byrom, sweet and old-fashioned, with a voice of astonishing power. Breezy Keith Harkin, with feathery blond hair and delicate fingers perfect for guitar-playing. Innocent Damian McGinty, a master showman growing into a deeper voice. They seem like old friends. And I was anxious to greet them as such when my parents and I attended their concert at the Warner Theatre in Erie, PA yesterday.

We learned of this concert back in July, the same time I discovered the third Celtic Thunder album. I watched the paper constantly for some sign that tickets were about to go on sale; the day they did, I made the call first thing in the morning, landing tickets in the third row. Our seats were ideal. Next to us was a man who had traveled here from Buffalo; this was his sixth Celtic Thunder concert, and he'd gone as far as 500 miles to see them. After the concert, we bumped into two women who'd made a six-hour trip from West Virginia for the show. The lads seem to draw people from far and wide.

We arrived near the theatre just before 7:00 and quickly found a parking ramp with the manageable fee of four dollars. Outside, my mom snapped a picture of me under the marquis, and we went inside with plenty of time to buy a program. For $15, it's one of the better concert programs I've collected, with pages of high-quality photographs, paragraphs detailing the history of the group and tidbits about the lads' lives. There's also the very helpful list of crew and musicians, along with a set list, though there were a few alterations to it last night. My only beef with the program is the number of grammatical errors, particularly when it comes to apostrophes and commas. Everything about Celtic Thunder screams, "Spare no expense"; surely they can afford a decent copyeditor. (If not, I volunteer my services for free.)

I managed to resist the allure of the rest of the merchandise, partly because my parents and I came in homemade t-shirts. Mom and Dad got different group shots of the lads, Mom's on stage, Dad's against a white background sporting kilts. Hers is more colorful, but his boasts the slogan "Real Men Wear Kilts." Meanwhile, after falling completely in love with some demo tracks Ryan released on his MySpace page, I restricted my t-shirt to just him, augmented by the line, "If you want it, you can have my heart." It's a quote from Broken Things, a song as vulnerable as the saucy Heartbreaker is brazen. I was happy with how it came out. But I could almost swear that at one point in the concert, George stared straight at me, shook his head and chuckled. Rest assured I didn't intend to diss the others, especially the balladeer who is the only member in the group not saddled with a song I find annoying.

The stage at the Warner was set up with an attractive series of stone steps that would have looked familiar to anyone who has seen the concert on PBS. This lends the proceedings an aura of antiquity that is bolstered by occasional fog; it also allows for more interesting choreography. Our concert began right on time, starting with a series of announcements, including perhaps the most severe prohibition against photography during a show that I've ever heard. From there, we moved instantly into the dramatic opening of Heartland, complete with thunder, mist and Gregorian chanting, which eventually led to the lads' appearance on the stage.

Keith, the particular favorite of the friend of mine who first told me about the group, was the first to catch the spotlight. The others soon followed. My eyes soon strayed to George, who was looking especially grave as he squinted under the bright stage lights, but when they came to rest on grinning Ryan, I had a hard time pulling my gaze away, so I missed the cheeky winks Mom insists Paul tossed in her direction. I tried to watch him more carefully throughout the evening, though, and perhaps my biggest surprise of the concert was Paul's playfulness. I was also struck, once the gravitas of the thunderous opening had faded, by George's general joviality. Of the five, I got the sense that those two were having the most fun out there. I'm glad their personalities had a chance to come out a bit, since there's not nearly enough frivolity on the concert DVDs. It's also nice to get an unexpected moment now and then, since ardent fans will be able to anticipate most of the movements in any given song, right down to the facial expressions.

Keith got the first solo, with guitar in tow. He does Castles in the Air much faster than Don McLean does, almost as though he's rushing through it; then again, if I were the speaker, I'd probably be rambling through my embarrassing little request as quickly as I could. "Hey, buddy, we're such great pals, do ya think you could break up with my girlfriend for me?" Classy. But Keith did a great job. Next up was Yesterday's Men, one of my favorite songs, and it was fantastic to see George singing it up-close, with such pronounced emotion. Oh, the sting when he "fought back the bitterness burning inside!" The only trouble with George is that most of his songs are a tad depressing, so it's a little harder for him to find opportunities during his solo numbers to flash his grin at the audience. Nonetheless, I was impressed with how effectively he drew the audience in on that one, and I wish the third verse hadn't been cut.

After that, the instrumentalists took the stage and soon got everyone's toes tapping. Seeing a band live in concert always gives me a deeper appreciation for the instrumentalists who are otherwise in the background. It's easy to see the extent of their talent and enthusiasm. I was especially impressed with guitarist Neil Byrne, who understandably had his own little cheering section. After the concert, he was very approachable, and we chatted briefly with him. On stage, he had a prominent role in several songs, always looking like he was having the time of his life.

Ryan was up next with Ride On, and as he raced up and down those stairs and sprinted across the stage, it was easy for me to imagine the furious energy of him performing Jesus Christ Superstar's Heaven on their Minds, which helped secure him a spot in the group. He, too, was especially good at connecting with the audience; every time he froze into a particular position, he stared out into the crowd, and as I was dead ahead of him a couple of times, I got the impression that our eyes locked, though I suspect many others had the same feeling. I've only ever had seats that close to the stage at a concert twice; it sure beats the nosebleeds! Ryan's performance was angsty and exhilarating - though I still couldn't help but chortle at the moment partway through the song when, during an instrumental break, he stands about two inches away from electric guitar-wielding Neil and stares him down. I figured it was coming, but that didn't make it look any less silly.

If I had to objectively judge, based merely on the volume of applause, which member of Celtic Thunder is the most popular, I think I'd have to go with Damian. When he stepped out for Come By the Hills, the crowd went wild. Now 17, he's settled nicely into his lower range, which so startled me when I first heard the group's third album. The difference is striking, but he's still an amazing singer, and this was one of the most restful songs of the night. Once again, though, the song was shortened by one verse. Paul followed it up with Love Thee Dearest, which showcased his operatic leanings well, but it was in the following group number, Raggle Taggle Gypsy, that he showed his roguish side by delivering his lines with a most unseemly pelvic thrust that had the audience howling. That song was more of an instrumental number, its highlight a frenzied three-way drum battle, but before the singers retreated backstage, they played up the jocularity.

Then it was time for Ryan to sing the song that first drew me into Celtic Thunder. Desperado was every bit as earnest as it should have been, and Ryan's eyes are even more expressive in person. I missed the dazzling smile on "It may be rainin', but there's a rainbow above you"; he went for pensive rather than jubilant in that particular rendition. But it was an exceptional performance, and the only Ryan solo that didn't emphasize the bad-boy persona, at least not directly. I was hoping for the exquisitely sad Brothers in Arms but not really expecting it, given its absence on the second DVD. Interestingly, all of the overt war songs - Brothers in Arms, The Island, Christmas 1915 and, most disappointingly, Green Fields of France - were left out. Too depressing, perhaps? Is that why they skip the second verse of Danny Boy, which is kinda what the song is all about? Then again, George performed The Old Man, which elegiacally captures the parent-child bond of Danny Boy but from the son's perspective.

George followed up Desperado with Working Man, quite the one-two punch for me, since Working Man is my favorite solo song on the new album. Actually, it's not technically a solo, since the other four join George on the last chorus, but it's close enough. This song, such an ideal complement to Yesterday's Men, once again demonstrated George's ability to connect with an audience. Additionally, David Cooke's piano accompaniment sounded even better live. What really got me with this song, though, was the way George completely cracked up as they moved into the chorus. I got the sense that there was some sort of technical glitch, like the musicians and singers weren't quite in sync with each other or something. The balance did seem a bit off, with the instrumentals overpowering the vocals somewhat. Then again, maybe George was just remembering a funny joke he'd heard earlier in the day...

There was no opportunity for giggling with the haunting a cappella version of Danny Boy. It was perfectly lovely, especially Ryan's aching "but come ye back" solo bits. I'm still annoyed about the omission of the second verse, but I guess the choice has been made, and there's not much chance they'll start doing it differently now. In the first major deviation of the night, Keith, instead of singing The Island, performed Homes of Donegal from the new album. I would have liked to see him wrestle with the meatier verses of The Island up close, but I do love listening to him do those massive runs, even if I sometimes tease him for succumbing excessively to Mariah Carey syndrome. Good melodies don't need that much embellishment. But I think I prefer that Keith doesn't just play it straight on this one, even though it's a track Dad skips so much that last night was the first time Mom heard the song.

That was one of the few new songs of the first act. Ryan, Paul and Damian all stuck with the classics during this portion. Damian's second song was A Bird Without Wings, the soaring inspirational anthem of gratitude. Damian's vocals were in fine form, with just a creak or two here and there, and George, standing off in the background, provided a wonderful undercurrent. During this song too, I noticed George chuckling when he wasn't singing; Dad figures he was concerned that Damian might be having a Bobby Brady moment. Paul was all business for Remember Me, Recuerde Me, and his glory notes at the end brought down the house.

Celtic Thunder has several songs that make good openings and finales. Take Me Home is one of the heavy hitters, and it ended the first act on a high note. Ryan started it off with conviction, and the rest followed. When they all came together for the chorus, their blended voices flooded the theater. And because it's such a long song, and a pretty upbeat one at that, there was ample opportunity for the lads to goof around with each other, and at one point, something off to the side of the stage made Paul break into his biggest grin of the night. I knew we had just reached intermission, but that didn't stop me from joining the large portion of the audience offering a standing ovation.

The 20-minute intermission gave us ample time to peruse our programs and get an idea of what songs were coming up, not to mention chortle over some of the answers the lads provided to the mini-surveys accompanying their personal profiles. For instance, when asked what quality he looks for in a woman, former accountant Ryan responds, "A healthy enough bank balance to be able to support the both of us as we grow old together on the secluded island her father gave us as a wedding present." Hmmm, not asking too much, are we, Ryan? Then there's Paul, who, when asked who his favorite singer is, declares, "Damian McGinty... he's SO dreamy!!!" Later that night, when he boarded the bus, someone called out, "Look after Damian!" to which Paul laughingly replied, "He's old enough now to look after himself!"

Act two began not with a group number, as might have been expected - and frankly, this probably would have been the perfect spot for Green Fields of France, which I really hope they incorporate into their concert sometime - but with Ryan's Heartbreaker, which Phil Coulter wrote specifically to establish his bad boy persona. It's among the most theatrical of the songs, with Ryan bouncing between two women, the somewhat passive cellist Megan Sherwood and the fiery dancer Zara Curtis, who gets in a hearty slap to his face as he plies her with insincere apologies. His guttural growl was particularly apparent from our short distance last night as he tore into words like "dark destroyer" and "romancer", and squeals filled the theater at his over-the-top "Welcome to the pleasure dome!" Like That's a Woman, it's a song that makes me slightly alarmed that Ryan is my favorite - but after all, it's just an act. I think.

Paul's next number was equally rousing, though for different reasons. Though the program promised Nights in White Satin, I was pleased that instead, he performed Because We Believe. A good chunk of it is in Italian, but enough is in English to give me the gist. It's a beautiful song, and it's perfectly suited to Paul's expansive voice. The sprinkling of stars in the background was a nice touch. After Paul's impressive display of lung power, Damian's Happy Birthday Sweet 16 seemed even goofier, but I had so much fun watching him ham it up that I really didn't mind too much. I got a kick out of the kilted tambourine player in the background, but my favorite part of the song was when Damian and Neil did a little two-person line dance.

George had a different song at this point as well. Instead of My Boy, he sang The Old Man, which was probably the most solemn portion of the concert. As George lost his own father at a young age, and we just passed the birthday of my paternal grandpa, who died 20 years ago, the song really resonated. Then came Keith with Lauren & I, one of the songs that most made me appreciate the vocal contributions of some of the instrumentalists. Some of these songs are definitely augmented by back-up vocals, though they blend so seamlessly into the background that I tend to forget they're there. I got the sense that this was Keith's favorite song to perform; it must be a bit of a rush for him to be able to incorporate a song he wrote himself into such a carefully orchestrated program. I wouldn't complain if Ryan had the same opportunity with The Village That They Call the Moy, his ode to his hometown in Northern Ireland, but something tells me I'll have to wait for a solo tour to see him perform that.

Speaking of which, Ryan's last pure solo was next. Every Breath You Take is probably my least favorite of the songs he does, but it was still enjoyable, and it gave Zara another chance to dazzle the guys in the audience. The mostly-a cappella Steal Away came next, and it was lovely, though I wish guitar-playing George hadn't been hidden in the back where I could barely see him. There was no missing him in 500 Miles, though; it was the most interactive song of the night. Even the image on the projector - an absurd animation of what looked like a glass of Guinness walking down the street - was entertaining. But I couldn't focus much attention on that, since George was busy making sure everyone in the audience was having a rollicking good time. He was particularly attentive to the fans in the pits just inches from the stage, catching their eyes and laughing as he swung his arms about to acknowledge audience and band members alike. By the end of the song, there was a lot of marching, giggling and "da na da da"-ing going on, and if I felt pretty much wiped out, it's probably a good thing that George had a four-song break before he had to take the stage again.

Keith's last solo of the night was I Wanna Know What Love Is, another song I'm not hugely crazy about, but he performed it well, and Damian seemed to be channeling Elvis in his spirited rendition of Breaking Up Is Hard to Do. The most theatrical song of the night was That's a Woman, the Paul / Ryan duet in which Zara has the opportunity to show off her dancing skills. It's a very funny piece, even though it's frustrating to see the nice guy finish last. Ryan's got disdainful sneering down to a fine art, and his spiels were hilarious, though what made me laugh the hardest was watching Paul during Ryan's first rant, standing at the front of the stage rolling his eyes and eventually tapping his wrist where a watch should have been. Paul stayed on the stage for his most impressive number, You Raise Me Up, which started out fairly restrained but ended in a burst of power notes that almost made me forget Josh Groban's version.

Ireland's Call was essentially a first finale, and most of the audience stood up before the first verse was over. The lads exaggerated their lines at every opportunity, with Keith getting the biggest reponse for his fisticuffs on "We will fight until we can fight no more", and eventually, they issued an invitation for everybody to sing along on the chorus, which a lot of people were doing already, not to mention marching in place. It would have been a powerful way to end the show, but two massive group numbers are better than one. Ryan took a moment to acknowledge the band, and then the musicians had the stage to themselves one more time for the rousing Appalachian Round-Up.

Finally, they wrapped the evening up with Caledonia, in which the lads finally delivered on the promise of the PBS representative who opened the show that we were sitting in a kilt zone. I still don't really understand why they wear such drab kilts; I don't think I ever saw a plain gray kilt before I discovered Celtic Thunder. But the main point of their wearing kilts seems to have been to show off their legs, especially Paul, who hiked his kilt up halfway during his big solo line. Later, during the chorus, he made a point of mooning the audience Braveheart-style with a swoosh of the kilt as he and the others turned en masse; never fear, though, as underneath that kilt was a very silly pair of boxers reminiscent of what Goofy wears in all those old Disney shorts. There was also a running gag with whoever was closest to Damian trying to lift up his kilt; when Paul finally managed it, he, too, was protectively clad in goofy boxers. Once again, the audience joined in the final choruses at the lads' invitation. George and Paul fit in some joking around with the fans in the pit, and they all stayed on stage long enough for an extended standing ovation, though they disappeared before the clapping ended. 

And that was the concert, though it wasn't quite the conclusion of our evening, since we hung around to take a couple of pictures of us in front of the stage, now that cameras were allowed again, and when we went out the side door, we found ourselves in the midst of a small crowd of people who were apparently waiting to see if anyone was going to come out after the show. We were drawn toward the crowd, and within a few minutes, Damian and Keith came outside and hopped on the bus. Damian zipped right in, while Keith came and went a few times, at one point stopping to pose for some pictures. The crowd was fairly large at that point, and I didn't have the nerve to try to get much closer, but as it was, he was just feet away from us, and though he seemed ready to call it a night, he was gracious as he bid farewell to the fans.

A little while later, I heard murmurings that Ryan had surfaced, and soon I saw him slowly make his way toward the bus. He didn't seem in a particular hurry to retreat, so I mustered up my resolve, and when he was about a foot away from me, I called, "Hey, Ryan, could I get a picture?" And he smiled, said "Of course," and patiently posed with me. That pretty much used up my reserve of chutzpah, so while we stuck around and saw Paul and George and called out greetings to them, I didn't try for any more pictures, not even with Neil, who spent more time off the bus than on. But it was a pretty terrific capper on a fantastic night. I hear they'll be touring again this spring; here's hoping they liked Erie as much as we liked them!