Redlight Report
A week ago tonight "The Patrick Bryant Trio" played at Atlanta's Redlight Cafe, and although I should pretend like it was nothing special -- just another in a long line of successful gigs, I gotta say: it was extraordinary. Our playing was probably no better than usual (though I hope no worse), and frankly, there were reasons to be annoyed, like the freezing temperatures in the venue and the free-floating time slot. But what made the show stand out so much was first the really excellent and professionally mixed sound system, and most importantly, the amazing audience.
I was excited about this show from the get-go for nostalgic reasons. Over a decade ago, we used to play the Redlight about once a month or so as "Adam's Cat," and even before that as "The Kilngods." So I worked hard to let as many people as possible know about this show. You might even say I was a bit aggressive, cornering people one-on-one or in small groups and inviting them to the show, making a general nuisance of myself until I wore down their resistance. But people did not disappoint me! Not only did those faithful friends who often come out to hear us turn up, but folks from work and church and old jobs; people that I haven't seen in years and people I've only just met heard about the show and came out on a freezing cold night and sat in a cold venue and listened to us play a 90 minute set of songs most of them had never heard.
If you've not been on the other side of the monitors, you may not understand what an amazing gift it is to have your own material listened to and appreciated. Over the years, I've learned that an audience has done its job by showing up and paying the cover charge. Once you take the stage, it's all up to you; they're under no great obligation to like you or listen to you or even be particularly quiet. It can be a terrifying thing to stand there and play song after song that you've written and that your audience doesn't know. Certainly you don't risk a barrage of rotten vegetables; it's something much worse you have to fear: their indifference. I've been there before, and it turns your guts to ice water. So when I say I appreciate not just the size and diversity but also the warmth and attention of Friday night's audience, you will understand that I'm not offering a perfunctory "thanks y'all." I'm talking about something fundamental to why I do this in the first place. I'm talking about why music matters to me, why I write and perform songs, why I care.
Here are some pics from the show:
