I stood on the sidelines at the Terry High end-of-the-year choir concert with the video camera rolling. Capturing the night for choir director Rhonda Klutts was my primary reason for being there and, frankly, I was running on empty. Walking into the auditorium, my head was swimming with my to-do list, and I wished I was headed home instead of heading to another event.

But I’d promised I’d go, so I reluctantly walked through the doors, telling myself I’d enjoy the music despite being tired and cranky. As the young men and women sang their hearts out, I found my spirits lifted and my batteries recharged.

Music has the power to re-energize us, and when it’s a live concert, the energy’s instant.

I’ve been to dozens of live concerts, the first memorable one being a John Denver performance when I was in my early 20s. I remember sitting in the dark as Denver’s voice washed over the crowd, wondering how anyone’s voice could be so crystal clear in person.

Denver’s performance was funny, moving and incredible, all at the same time. After that concert, I became a life-long John Denver fan, and the song “Poems, Prayers and Promises” still makes me cry.

In later performances, Denver sang “Sunshine” much slower than he did in his early career, and his later version of the song takes on a poignancy that’s missing from the faster, pop version. But even as he grew older, his voice remained crystal-clear, and I appreciated him much more the second time I heard him in concert.

I’ve seen James Taylor in concert twice – once when he was younger and the second when he was older. His voice deepened over time, but that clear, unique sound was still there. Like Denver, he slowed down some of the songs in his later years, and the result was gold.

“Sweet Baby James” was always a favorite, but when “Mudslide Slim” sang that melody all alone on the stage, just him strumming an acoustic guitar with each line slowly delivered to the audience, I was a blubbering fool by the end.

I’ve also been to local music concerts where I’ve been amazed at the talent here in our community. There’s also been a few where I literally winced when the singer was trying to hit some of the high notes, but more often than not, sitting outside underneath a sky filled with stars while being serenaded by guitars, drums and a silky voice is a blissful way to spend the evening.

As I relaxed and leaned back at the high school concert, I paid more attention to the singers on the stage. Some showed a bit of stage fright, but the encouragement of Rhonda Klutts and her assistant Marlayna Shaw was like a shot of adrenaline to those singers.

From my vantage point, I could see Rhonda’s animated face, smiling and her arms up in the air, encouraging those singers to deliver every note from the bottom of their lungs.

By the time they got to “Eagle’s Wings,” I don’t think there was a dry eye in the house. Not only was the song spot on, this was the last concert for the graduating seniors, the last time these young men and women would sing together on a stage.

I thought about how much they’d learned from their teacher, especially the lesson that music unites and encourages and will stay with them the rest of their lives.

On the way home, I rolled down the windows, turned off the radio and sang “Sweet Baby James” softly as the miles rolled past, my soul refreshed, my spirits lifted, grateful for the troubadours who lift us up in song.

Because, as James says, “singing works just fine for me.”

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.