On the day before Valentine’s Day at Bemidji’s Senior Center, I count about 70 to 80 people who have come to hear Dennis Doeden and Friends at 1 p.m. in the afternoon.
Outside, the sun is shining as people go about their daily routines, unaware that they’re missing out on two hours of uninterrupted foot-tapping, dance-inspiring, fun-loving, smile-provoking, dopamine-producing music.
This is the first time these six musicians have performed together, but all have played in various groupings at Thursday jam sessions here. Today Dennis’ bandmates include Jim Cortese on drums, Carol Kilian on accordion, Shorty Schmidt on lead guitar, Fred Ambuehl on bass and Vickie Ambuehl on vocals.
Dennis and Friends kick it off with Merle Haggard’s “Rambling Fever,” but this crowd doesn’t appear to want to ramble right now, except maybe to the dancefloor, a space between the musicians and the guests that Dennis pointed out prior to this first song.
Before “Rambling Fever” ends, a man in a Dondelinger cap leads a lady in pink onto the dance floor, and in no time, they are smiling and two-stepping to Merle’s tune– an inspiration to others to join in.
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Most of the songs on Dennis’s chart are love-themed for this pre-Valentine’s Day show. The second song, “A Sad Day to Be You” by the Cactus Blossoms, brings more couples onto the dance floor.
Music seems to make people smile, including the man wearing the Vietnam Vet cap who is dancing with a woman in an animal print shirt. Those not dancing sit, listen, sip drinks, eat thickly frosted Valentine cupcakes and visit quietly with friends.
What is it about music, I wonder, that makes people so happy? Even sad songs like “Heartaches by the Number” (Ray Price) and “Crying Time” (Buck Owens). Of course, tempo can make a difference. How can anyone feel sad when the band plays the Everly Brothers’ “Bye Bye, Love”?
Lyrics are memorable, but music brings them to life and injects them into the listeners’ essence, implanting a message before there’s even a realization of what the words say. Music seeps in, awakens something in us, triggers emotions, makes us feel alive.
The added benefit of physical activity (dancing or performing the music) doubles the experience. For this gig, Dennis doesn’t take a break for two hours — but judging by the smile on his face, he’s having as much fun as anyone.
Music stirs emotions and unlocks memories for us. When Dennis starts “Have I Told You Lately That I Love You” (Thank you, Van Morrison), I sit with my laptop, taking notes (not quite sure where this story will go) and am transported back to days when I watched my parents dance.
They’d met on a dance floor in the early 1940s; my tiny mom, 4-foot-8 even in heels, made my dad, 5-foot-8, look tall. I’m sure it was dancing that ignited their love and kept it alive — the two of them, not flashy, but smooth as silk and in perfect sync, dad guiding her like a porcelain doll across the dance floor.
Dennis has a repertoire of short quips that he interjects between songs. After this one, he says, “I saw one guy there telling the lady next to him that he loved her. That’s okay, even if we are Minnesotans. There was a Norwegian guy who loved his wife so much he almost told her so.” Chuckles from the crowd indicate that Dennis knows his audience.
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When Pat Moen arrives, I know the dance floor will be busier. Pat says music is her life (after family, of course). Easy to spot on the floor in her vibrant red blouse, she doesn’t sit many out.
Pat tells me later that when she isn’t dancing here, she’s dancing somewhere else — at the Eagle’s on Friday nights, at the Trail dance hall when John Vincent and his Hillbilly Band play, or at jam sessions where her nephew Mike Rearick plays.
Music is an integral part of her life. She recalls many nights, decades ago, accompanying her late husband Jerry to Shevlin where he played with Chet Montbriand and the Rhythm Ramblers.
Then Bemidji’s star dance couple, Suzy and Hondo, arrive just in time for “I Can't Help It (If I'm Still in Love with You),” a fitting song for the couple who read each other’s moves so perfectly.
They split up to dance with other guests, too. Suzy tells me later that they have no days without music and dance.
“When we finish teaching a class, we’ll go out afterward and dance somewhere," she added.
In the seats, those not dancing can’t help but join in singing when Dennis starts “All I Have To Do Is Dream,” made famous by the Everly Brothers. Suzy dances with a tall man in a striped sweater who guides her into a slow twirl and, to her apparent surprise, follows smoothly with a twirl of his own under her arm.
Fifty or 60 years ago, some of these dancers might have been spilling beer and stomping on peanut shells in the basement of Noel’s, but today, when someone accidentally spills water on the floor, he is quick to wipe it up so no one slips in it.
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After two hours, the show is over. Many guests pitch in to clean up and put things away. Dennis and Friends load up their instruments.
I’m thankful for the music director who gave Dennis a solo to sing for his last high school concert. Dennis says that opportunity gave him the confidence to make more music — with his brother Jim (The Doeden Brothers) when they were young to the present time with “Friends.”
“I always feel like I get more out of each performance than the audience,” Dennis adds. “I can't keep from smiling, even when I'm singing sad country songs. It's funny, because I started singing for the ‘elderly’ when I was in my 30s, and now that I'm one of them (at 70 years old), I have no plans to quit.”
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