They bill Natalie MacMaster as the one-woman Riverdance, and I wish she would make them stop.

I’ve liked KPC since about four or five years ago, when they put on a small production of the musical, Chess, that coincided with a chess tournament being held in town. Call them weird; call them wacky, but someone over there has exactly my taste, and over the years I’ve seen a number of fabulous concerts in their tiny little auditorium. And did I mention the free parking? I mean, people have been complaining at the number of times I’ve blogged the word “parking” but come on, folks. Free. Parking. Don’t you just get that little shiver in your spine?

So who is it over there, who loves Canadian fiddlers, and Arlo Guthrie, and M.Pact, and 80s musicals? My undying gratitude goes out to you.

There we were, sitting in a packed audience watching Mac on stage. Every once in a while she would casually reach up and pull away the loose horsehair coming off her bow. She kept time with her entire body, from top to toe, and her notes rained down on us like a waterfall of music. It was the first night of the tour (she shared that tidbit with us, along with a glimpse of her new baby daughter and her huge wedding ring), and as she and her band played on the stage, you just got that feeling, the one that tells you that she would play like that to a full house or to an empty house; that she doesn’t so much walk down the street, as she dances to her own beat; that everywhere she goes, the music follows around behind her, beside her, in front of her — Natalie MacMaster, the one-woman hemi-demi-semi-quaver.