J.P. Cormier appears from the shadows at the side of the stage—an unsmiling mountain of a man in dark glasses—and stalks almost angrily to his seat in the spotlight. He picks up his instrument, adjusts his mic stand and asks the audience: “How’re ya now?” in a rumbling baritone.

Then he starts to tell his story.

His lyrics and melodies illicit every emotion you can muster as he paints picture after picture of loves lost, towns disbanded, fishermen killed by their trade and the most important moments of his own life. His voice is surprisingly sweet and soft-sounding, completely unexpected coming from his 6’4″ frame.

He begins an instrumental on one of the five or six instruments he may have on stage with him and you realize that this man is not just a singer or a songwriter. As his fingers fly, with such speed and precision, upon each instrument in turn, you get another picture—one of pure joy and boundless energy; total spiritual abandon bordering in its execution on genius. It’s a word that is used to describe him again and again.