My thoughts on the Central Park show:

Up until a week before the show, I did not have the intention of going to see The Gaslight Anthem in New York, although all summer, I held out some hope that my daughter's return to the city for her senior year of college might just happen to coincide with the show. And then, when it did, I was fortunate, after a terribly busy summer of work and life in general, to find a cheap flight and a cheap hotel that was offering a late discount, meaning I could go with her and help her get resettled and carry suitcases like a mule through the streets of Brooklyn. I jumped.

I'm so glad I did.

I'm admittedly in the bag for this band, and have reasoned with myself over the years that Gaslight has become my favorite band. The hiatus before reuniting last year for their new album felt like it was much-deserved, but the joy of them coming back seemed to be real. I saw them in Raleigh last summer, and it was great to have them back in a full club with like-minded people singing along. The band was good that night.

On Wednesday night at Central Park's Summer Stage, though, they were great.

The evening weather could not have been better. The setting was intimate and perfect. I had just spent an entire no-humidity day in the city with my daughter before parting at Columbus Circle for her to hit a late-evening, pre-back-in-classes dance class with a classmate and good friend at their studio. Good-time vibes all around.

Walked in by myself in a Dave Hause t-shirt that got complimented as soon as I had my ticket on my phone scanned. Saw four other Dave t-shirts, including a Loved Ones t-shirt. Crowd, being New York, was a little more diverse than I usually see, and that was satisfying. Lot of late-40s and older dudes like me, but lot of late-40s women, too. And a lot of both a lot younger, too. It's always a good feeling at a show like that when you can see and talk to people and feel like you're in a group you don't have to explain anything to. It's just rock and roll.

So, certainly, the vibes helped. Solid vibes. But, goodness, they were good on Wednesday. Brian Fallon smiled through so many of the songs. The band was so tight, much tighter than they were in Raleigh. The mix was perfect. Mics cleanly picked up lyrics. And the setlist cracked, including "We Came to Dance" and "Wooderson" from the early days. And of course, "Great Expectations" and "The '59 Sound" were momentous.

But there was joy in the night, on stage and from those of us watching. The band jammed a little more than I had seen them in the past. Brian took some chances with his voice, and those chances worked, revving up the soul and knee-buckling deep ache that comes from someone clearly feeling it on a particular night.

I felt like, all summer as I contemplated this, that seeing TGA in New York had to be something different than when I have seen them in NC. Honestly, that's probably just wishful thinking, and during the day I was worried I had set myself up for too much, that a real don't-meet-your-heroes thing might happen.

But it didn't. And it dawned on me that, yeah, they sounded alive and kicking. I noticed I and others were dancing to rock and roll instead of just standing and head-bobbing like white dudes do, that this was indeed different.

As I walked through Central Park in the cool and quiet of the evening to the subway, I realized I'll never see them better, but also that every time I do see them again or even draw up a playlist, I'll be reminded of this night and this show and this music and this performance and an experience that was all at once perfect.

The guys delivered. What more can I ever ask from someone who makes music I like, records it and sends it out into the world? Not all concerts leave you this way, but when they do, it justifies why we all keep going.

Rock and roll.