Song: “If You Could See Me Now”

Back when I was driving my daughter to sports tournaments, the Script was our musical accompaniment. An Irish band combining Celtic and other rhythms, flowing rap, and soaring anthems, the group produced songs catchy to the point of absurdity. On top of this, the lyrics were excellent.

But like all things Daddy/daughter over time, the Script receded into the mists of memory for us . . . until this past week, when the band leaped onto the stage again — literally — when we were able to share a Script concert together.

It did not disappoint.

The band is touring in support of Tales from the Script, their first greatest hits album, featuring new songs on that album along with some of their major hits. It made for a fantastic evening. The crowd was completely committed to the music, the band was on fire, and the emotions ran high.

The Script has an interesting configuration — a lead singer who also plays keyboard and percussion when needed; a drummer who also sings; and, a lead guitarist who can sing, rap, and play other string instruments (mandolin) when needed. For live shows, a bassist and an additional keyboard player come along.

Lyrics written years ago have gained newfound poignancy in the wake of the pandemic, like these from “For the First Time”:

Oh, these times are hard,
And they’re making us crazy.
Don’t give up on me, baby.

Hearing thousands of people singing that together with true emotion over and over puts a lump in your throat.

Among the many poignant and uplifting songs the Script has, one stands apart — “If You Could See Me Now.” It’s a personal song for the lead singer, Danny O’Donoghue, telling the story of the 2008 death of his father — who was also part of a popular band — and the hole the death left in its wake. The song explores ways he’s tried to fill the wound with imagined reactions to the worldwide success he was experiencing. These words — some sung, some rapped — are to me just heart-wrenching:

And there are days when
I’m losing my faith
Because the man wasn’t good, he was great
He’d say, “Music was the home for your pain”
And explained — I was young — he would say

Take that rage, put it on a page
Take that page to the stage
Blow the roof off the place

I’m trying to make you proud
Do everything you did
I hope you’re up there with God saying
“That’s my kid!”

What would that important person in your past think of you if they could see you now?

I’ll bet they’d be proud.