I find that playing and singing have less to do with the audience (if any) than with the other people involved in making music with me. I was primarily a singer until about five years ago, and the things I liked best about singing were the physical sensation of producing the sound well, and the transcendent experience of singing well in a tight ensemble. The clapping and the occasional free drink were nice, too, but not nearly enough to compensate for the millions of hours I must have logged at choir practice over more than 40 years!

Having recently found a session that takes place at a convenient time and place, I am now finding the same experience in group playing. (Of course, it helps that I'm now nearly adequate on the mandolin.) It's a special pleasure to be a regular, to be greeted and included in the circle. It's particularly nice to find my repertoire beginning to trickle into the other session players. And when I'm packing up my mandolin to go home, there's sometimes an old guy or cute young thing bar who sidles up to say, "Do you think I could bring my harmonica/fiddle/spoons sometime?"

Seven years ago, I married a baritone and began learning a new skill, that of accompaniment. What an interesting journey! Where once I dragged an instrumentalist kicking and screaming in my wake, now I am the one struggling to read a singer's mind while wrestling to vary three chords over 15 verses. On good days, when we're on the money, that old transcendent thrill is back. On bad days, when my left hand is slow and my right hand can't find the beat and he's singing either sharp or flat but never quite *on* -- well, it's a good thing we have the discipline to keep at it until another good day rolls around!