Page 49 of Declan

The song ends with a crash, and he shouts his goodbyes, and in true Declan fashion, the lights go out from the stage to about halfway up the stadium. I can’t see anything other than the floor lights and the emergency lights at the very back, but I hear people scurrying around near me, which seems out of place. I don’t know much about Declan’s shows, but I do know that the lights go out until the chants reach a high enough crescendo, and then he pops back on stage for an encore.

After a few moments, the crowd starts to chant his name, drowning out some of the commotion on stage. It sounds as if they’re moving things around, and I strain my eyes, hoping I see something, but all I make out is an occasional moving shadow, so I give up. Whatever it is they’re doing will be revealed shortly, and there’s not one damn thing I can do about it anyway.

A spotlight comes on, showing Declan on the far corner of the stage, and once again, the crowd goes wild. After a few moments, he raises his hands, and they settle down. He waits a few beats into the silence, and then says, “My wife wanted to meet the real me, but I think what she doesn’t understand is that the real me and the real me in her presence are two different people.”

He kneels, grabs onto something that appears large, hefts it up, and sets it on his shoulder, revealing an old-fashioned boombox.

I try not to smile, and I fail miserably when he presses play and holds the microphone up to the speaker, and that song fromSay Anythingblasts throughout the arena.

He allows it to play for a while and then turns it off and says, “My wife is such a romantic that she doesn’t watch entire movies; she just watches the clips of the grand gestures. So, I figure, what better way for me to show herherDeclan Hughes than with a grand gesture. What do you all think of that?“ He doesn’t wait for them to answer, instead turning the song back on, and the crowd sings along to the well-known hit while he stands there, watching me, even though he can’t see me in the darkness.

Of course, now they’re really eating out of the palm of his hand, and I shake my head at the genius that is Declan the entertainer. And I say that, knowing he’s entirely genuine right now, but this is pretty over-the-top sensational, even for him.

I still can’t see the rest of the stage, so God only knows what’s going to happen next. The song runs for a few moments longer, and the smug smile on his face grows as he continues to look in my direction, and I glower out of principle.

It’s not that I’m not still annoyed, but it’s rather difficult not to thaw when the man is giving you a public reenactment of one of your favorite scenes.

And I have the distinct feeling he’s not done yet.

The song ends, and he places the boombox back on the floor, and then, once again, the lights go out.

This time, the crowd stays silent, almost as if they’ve been given a script, which I find disconcerting, but then the spotlight pops back on, this time, on the other side of the stage, and he says, “You all probably know this already, but I’m gonna say it anyway. I’ve never in my entire musical career written a love song. I’ve never understood the concept of love or how anyone could possibly love another person more than they love themselves.” He laughs, and they all laugh with him because even when he’s being an egotistical jackass, he’s still charming.

Then, he adds, “I most certainly had no concept of lover’s love. On being so enamored and obsessed with another person, you feel as if your very souls are connected. And this is a phenomenon that has happened to some people I’m close to recently, and I admit, I scoffed, rolled my eyes, and laughed at them. I told them all they were crazy and mocked them to no end, but now…now I understand. That being said, I’m obviously not going to write some love ballad and drone on poetically, but there’s one thing I can do.”

He stands there, looking out at the crowd, smiling, and they’re hooting, hollering, and stomping their feet, and he says, “You know where I’m going with this, right?”

Now, they’re screaming, a whole new level of frenzy taking over the arena, and he doesn’t say anything else as two of his crew pop out from behind the curtain. One takes his microphone and hands him a headset before placing the mic in the stand that he carried out with him, and the other hands him his guitar, and then they both exit the way they came.

Declan immediately starts to play, his band taking their cues from him effortlessly, and then he steps up to the microphone and sings in that low, gravelly tone people swoon over and sings.

The first time I saw your face, I was nonplussed

Your eyes full of scorn, that pretty mouth twisted, I brushed you off as ill-advised

But then time rolled by, and one day, I looked up to see you smiling

And my soul shifted, and I knew you’d be mine

He pauses his singing and laughs, then adds as almost a side note, “Bear with me, folks. This is a work in progress.”

My hands are covering my cheeks, and even I chuckle at his comment. I’m sure the audience is more than thrilled to be bearing witness to the creative process of Declan Hughes.

He plays that earlier musical section again then seems happier with it as he continues, his singing voice a bit harsher but no less hypnotizing as he sings.

It was incredibly time-consuming, frustrating, infuriating

The direct approach sure-fire annihilation

Every step calculated, every moment orchestrated, and with a whole lot more

He makes air quotes.

Oversight

He raises his brows, shrugs then picks up his guitar, and sings on.

Than anticipated

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