It recently dawned on me that over the years this column hasn't been so much about what I've seen but how I've seen it. And in trying to put music into words, by clawing madly at the air the notes inhabit, I am nowhere closer to figuring any of this out. And you, gentle readers, look to me for guidance? Opinions? Recommendations? We're all screwed.

If you must corral my faith, it's safe to say I'm in the just-in-case-we're-wrong-and-there-is-a-god slot occupied by agnostics. Spiritual, yes, but I don't buy into voices in the sky.

So there I was at The Buddhahood's wonderful tribute show to its lost leader, Tony Cavagnaro, at Water Street Music Hall this past Sunday. It was truly a celebration despite the bitter reality of his absence. Band after band, musician after musician, played with reverence and pride for close to 1000 fans. Everyone had a Tony tale to tell. It was when one friend quoted Kurt Vonnegut that I stopped in my tracks. "Let this be my epitaph," he wrote. "The only proof he needed for the existence of God was music."

So I softened my focus a little to dig the overall vibe. Yeah, there were groovy details to zero in on like 40 Rod Lightning's excellent take on the ‘Hood's "On My Way Home." There was the return of Rochester's prodigal son, Rob Cullivan, huffin' and puffin' on his harp when he wasn't huffin' and puffin' on a Pal Mal. There was the big easy boogie of Red Line Zydeco, The Druids' heavy jams, Peachy Nietzsches in full quirk, The Mysterious Blues Band shredding on "Amazing Grace," Hypnotic Clambake (who play what could be called polkska), to name a few. And of course The Buddhahood, who were still beating the drum and the crowd into a frenzy as I left.

It was a fitting tribute to a talented musician and beautiful person who's sprit was all over the joint. The music was varied and profound. I won't attempt to secularize it with words other than to say I dug the vibe big time. I didn't see God, but I felt something... real good.