Though you couldn't possibly know it, you're catching me at an opportune time: back from the road, yet not on the road again. So, fresh from Chattanooga, here's my tale of rhythm and tunes:
The last time I visited Chattanooga, it was an accident. My friends meant to go to Atlanta, had car problems, stopped off in Noogsville for chicken, and just stayed. We bought cheap cigars and smoked them by the river and drove back in the middle of the night and I remember thinking, "Chattanooga's a pretty cool town."
And, two years later, Chattanooga's still a pretty cool town. It's that rare middle-sized college town that still prioritizes the arts; it's the type of place where you know the Mexican food is good before you step foot in a restaurant; it's the type of place where, if the venue doesn't have a P.A., everyone in the crowd just gets even quieter, to make sure they hear everything.
So, last night I gave what was, essentially, a modified livingroom performance: no mics, no speakers, no monitors. A guitar and some vocal chords and a room-full of eager ears and attentive eyes. I'd love to take credit for holding the crowd's attention, but I can't: I think they would've paid the same respect to a clumsy juggler. Keen listeners make great music fans, and Chat's got plenty of them.
Seems like I'm always stopping through en route to somewhere else. One of these days (soon, I hope) I'll be back and stay a while. Smoke two cigars by the river. And forget about Atlanta.
Lying in the sun,
Chris
P.S. A very special thank-you to Trevor for being so kind and hospitable. Check out his Podcast on May 5 to hear our interview. Until then...
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