Some people craft art for financial gain and others do it because it's all they know. Michael McDermott is one of the latter. Inside the Montrose Room, a phenomenal new music venue located just outside of Chicago, Michael McDermott is solitary with a single spotlight as he is plucking his psyche with only his voice and an acoustic guitar on "I Shall Be Healed", a ballad from his melancholy 2007 release Noise From Words. He is shifting between "I Shall Be Healed" and verses from U2's "Bad" as he clamors for a connection. On record, "I Shall Be Healed" is performed unadorned on a piano, but by pairing it with an exerting hymn of pain and suffering from allows it to be seen in a light no one had imagined before. I became reacquainted with Michael McDermott last year with the release of Hey La Hey his best album in nearly a decade and arguably the best of his career. McDermott, backed by his three-piece band, tore through a two-hour set mixing his classics alongside his novel new material showcasing the depth of his songbook. As McDermott and his three backing players took the stage and tore into "20 Miles South of Nowhere" they became one with the crowd. McDermott was in a jacket, loosely fitting tie and a hat with an electric guitar in tow. The material from Hey La Hey was spot-on and bristled with clarity as he performed audience favorites in novel arrangements laying clear focus on his poetic lyrics of life and loss. When you hear a song, it takes you away, makes you forget about your worries, but what happens when those four-minutes are over? For an artist to have their songs truly work they have to find their way inside your consciousness and twist their way around your brain. McDermott's songs put you in the crossfire of life as they force you to acknowledge, recognize and take action. Can you say that about every artist you encounter?

"Bandit Country" was anchored by McDermott's husky vocals and Heather Horton's swelling violin. "Spark" (from the fantastic Last Chance Lounge) was performed by McDermott on an electric as Horton's violin magnified the song with her delicate touches. It was here on the evening's fourth song where I saw McDermott wrestle from within. He delivered an impassioned vocal with her eyes closed and squinting as his body shook with every lyric. "Unemployed" was preceded by a comical story where Kid Rock commented to McDermott of his admiration for the song. One begins to wonder that if Rock can cover John Eddie ("Lowlife"), why not Michael McDermott? "Unemployed" was written more than a decade back but its stinging lyrics divulge the bleak nature of 2010. The characters that inhabit McDermott's songs jump out at you as poets and lovers attempt to find themselves. McDermott strapped on an acoustic for a solo rendering of "Just West of Eden" that left the audience mouths open-mouthed in a performance that defied fear. McDermott sings every song with a bursting allegiance that accentuates his authenticity, further demonstrated superbly on "Bells" a cult classic from his self-titled record in the mid-1990's best known for the recurring phrase, "Hey La Hey". Performed unadorned on a piano, it seeped with force. The solo acoustic numbers were as enthralling as the full band ones. "Still Ain't Over You Yet" felt more unfeigned and a bone-cutting rendition of "Junkie Girl", which flirts with an alternative and much darker life path-one that is all too realistic, resonated intensely proving that less was more. "Hard To Break" has Horton on lead vocals with McDermott complimenting her serenading style. One of the most evocative tracks on Hey La Hey the live rendition is a showcase for Horton's wistful voice highlighted by her husband McDermott. A reflection on the trials and tribulations of life, it delves into the past and was delivered in a prayer-like intensity where the narrators are looking for some guidance along the way once again evoking the journey we all connect with because ultimately, it is ours as well. The solemnity of the performance with McDermott's guitar and Horton's fiddle only slightly decorating the song was intense and brought the story to the forefront. The whole evening, enhanced by the Montrose Room's atmosphere had a Storytellers feel to it. Every grin, cringe, smirk and grunt couldn't just be seen but felt.

Once you've made in the world of entertainment it becomes a challenge for the artist as to what they can disclose with their audience that will lessen their ache, put their worries to rest and arouse their spirit? If you get divorced or experience a death of someone close, this frequently incites the creative fire within. But if none of that occurs, what then? This is the fight most acts find themselves in when money and security no longer an object that drives their lives. The common person works every day for fear of losing their livelihood, having their house repossessed, or not being able to provide for their family. I doubt acts that gross $100-million on the road have these items keep them up at night, which is why the more success they endure, the harder it is to mine their psyche and relate to their audience. Hey La Hey is McDermott's 9th album of original material and his best. How many artists can you honestly say are at their creative peak after ten records? We may fool ourselves into believing certain acts are, but they're not. McDermott made the best record released in 2009 and after seeing him perform more than half of it live, there is no doubt whatsoever that he pours every ounce of his soul onto the concert stage.

I saw an equal when I gazed on the stage on this particular night. McDermott is infinitely more talented than I could ever dream, but I believed his struggles were my own and I cheered, laughed and cried along because the simultaneous jolt anguish of euphoria and pain could be felt throughout the whole room highlighted on the evening's penultimate song, "So Am I". In the end, it's about the lyrics that force one to take a long hard look in the mirror. This opening cut on Hey La Hey (it also is a hidden alternate cut at the end) McDermott is serenading his fears and unanswered questions where one defiant question comes to the forefront; "Will you keep that candle burning?" Whether it's for an impossible love, and impossible dream or just the will to make it through these impossible times McDermott doesn't just remind us but challenge us, like a philosophical doctrine, to keep the faith. His songs elicit more than mere character sketches that form a work of fiction but play out like everyday people in a documentary. There are artists who exhibit the ordinary person's struggles and others who exude it without trying; Michael McDermott exudes it because he's experiencing it like you and me. Instead of merely writing about incidents he has read about in a newspaper, he lives through his art. Each song and note sung is drained from his veins and utilizing a guitar instead of a syringe, he re-injects it to those in need. This isn't a man of the people trying to relate to his audience because he doesn't have to; he is already one of us.