It’s always nice to be enlightened, even later in life. So it is for me with the magnificent Sara Bareilles.

Somehow I got quite far along in my life without knowing her work. I’m really not sure how that happened, but I first encountered her stunning presence on TV in 2018 as Mary in Jesus Christ Superstar; I am sure I knew about her over the years prior, but maybe I had just classified her as a Broadway performer and not realised she was a seriously popular pop artist singer/songwriter as well. Me, the supposed wiz on music.

Here is another artist I have struggled to put words on keyboard about for years. Partly because she is so singular and transcendent that I have felt my words would not do her justice. Mostly because I have never been able to take photos of her that do her justice. The lighting is never favourable for my poor little camera to take sharp pictures. But my god, I adore Paula Cole, so finally here is something.

She is earth mother and otherworldly. She’s fierce and delicate, powerful and gentle, devoted, earnest and honest and very humble. I have loved her since a friend who knew me so well gifted me her This Fire album 30 years ago.

Happy Gay or Sad Gay, Brandi Carlile makes us all gay. You know, when gay also means bright, cheery and light. Brandi was in fine gay form on the penultimate concert of her Human tour, on a late summer night with a touch of coolness in the moist air. She was also in chatty gay form, talking even more than she usually does with her funny stories, descriptions of her beautiful wife Catherine, their characterful daughters, their life and times at home and on the road. She was just about to release the newly re-recorded/re-imagined version of her year-old album, Returning To Myself. This new one being the “Sad Gay Version”. I took a photo of her looking like a sad gay. But overall she is the happiest, coolest most wide-eyed and glorious artist I love to see, and I am glad I saw her on this night, because I have a feeling I might not get to see her again for some time.

This was such an exquisite treat. Gorgeous Sarah, in such fine voice, every gesture, every expression on her face begging my camera to capture the moment. A warm August night, an audience in raptures, an artist astonished by those raptures. Me, there, so grateful. I didn’t think last November’s show at the Orpheum here in LA could be topped, but Tuesday night at the Greek Theatre was beyond amazing. Just seeing Sarah basking in the euphoric glow of a wildly loving audience, at one of the loveliest outdoor venues anywhere, was magical.

I wish my Dad were still alive, visiting me in Los Angeles, sitting with me last Sunday night at the Hollywood Bowl to watch the magnificent, joyous, historic event that was Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass. Dad has been gone for more than 22 years so it would have been more than a miracle, but I was thinking about him a lot during the lovely show.

Well, this was without doubt the most extraordinary concert experience I’ve ever had at the legendary Troubadour, where so many extraordinary things have happened in music history… At Darren Hayes’ show last Saturday, the first of two sold-out nights, it was about the energy, the astonishing audience, and the emotion going both ways from stage to audience and back, which felt extra unique and remarkable.

It could be the height of irony that a new album featuring songs about pondering our existence, being as human as we are, returning to ourselves where solitude can ultimately return us back more closely to our relationships with others, was showcased on an arena tour this year. In those soulless and cavernous and super expensive (parking!!) venues, to pack in a lot of people and raise production levels so that giant screens and special effects might appeal to a wider audience and entertain those with challenged attention spans and maybe justify the ticket prices…

Or maybe it’s just sincere progress. Brandi Carlile has, in the seven years since I became Brandified, become a superstar.

I re-watched the Lilith Fair documentary on Hulu a few days after seeing Sarah McLachlan’s flawless performance at The Orpheum, the final date of her nine-city tour in support of her latest album, Better Broken, which I have been listening to a lot these past couple of months.

Sarah will be the first to put herself out there as imperfect but her version of being broken is a state of being human that most of us who are brittle, vulnerable and deeply flawed, women especially, would aspire to. She is profoundly talented, an extraordinary vocalist, an ingenious and honest songwriter, a translucent performer.

Getting to this Heart show in Anaheim near the end of a year crazier than the lyrics of “Crazy On You”, after two missed opportunities, withstanding horrendous LA weekday traffic, dressed in concert attire that makes me look cool even if I don’t feel cool, and upgrading my view from sixth row side to second row centre because I was plucky enough to claim an empty seat – which it turned out was alongside Mike Flicker, famed Heart producer, and his family – was all enough to justify being ecstatic as the opening riffs of “Bebe Le Strange” began.

Mainly I was euphoric at hearing Ann and Nancy Wilson live, singing gorgeous songs, being up close, seeing Ann looking so beautiful and sounding remarkably good after her significant health challenges.