It was Saturday night, and the holidays were in full swing. Bright colorful lights, good cheer, and falalalalala and whatnot. ‘Tis the season. Rocker Johnny Manchild and his band were supposed to be blowing into town and otherwise downtown was lit up and dressed up for holiday cheer. Man, the people who do the decorating downtown really take it seriously. Casual strollers and shoppers were pausing in front of the big tree in Coursey Park to take pictures.
All three nights that week we were packed at the bar (the other kind of good cheer and whatnot,) and Saturday looked to be another busy night, but Danielle and I were going to be heading to the Manchild concert at the Lyric. The air was colder then, and we were glad the wind wasn’t blowing. It was fun to walk down to an historic old theater on a cool December night amid all the decorations.
The audience was light but eager and I didn’t think very many of us knew what to expect. That’s what I thought. But then Johnny came on stage and asked the crowd how many people knew of him before that night. It seemed like most of the audience raised their hands. Well, then.
There were technical glitches and sound problems early. Johnny told everyone he was under the weather and losing his voice, but you’d never know it except for the occasional cough. The band rocked the place and I know for a fact they made insta-fans out of almost everyone in the room.
How do I describe it? The only way to do it is with some of my patented run-on sentences that you love so much. Ok, I don’t know if this makes sense but it was like a mashup of Billy Joel and Elton John when they were young and explosive and if they joined Chicago before Chicago went pop, or like if Schroeder from Peanuts grew up and just decided to rock the joint on his piano with a six piece backing band including horn section and Schroeder was mashing up Beethoven and Steely Dan or something and stood up and played like Jerry Lee Lewis and just wailed into the microphone until everyone was singing along. That’s how I’d describe it.
So, I was disappointed that we didn’t have a packed out house for such a cool talent, but it is the holidays and a lot of people didn’t know what they’d be missing. The general opinion was that if Johnny ever decides to come back he’ll likely have a sold-out show because word of mouth will flood Brownwood like the rain did in 2016.
As for me, I was doing this (helping promote and get sponsors) just because I love downtown and what’s happening here.
As I’ve said, Downtown Brownwood is like a big version of Shaw’s Marketplace. (Seriously, go to Shaw’s and shop this holiday season. You’ll love it.) Downtown is an incubator for small, locally owned businesses. It is a template for other small towns who want to build an exciting, walkable business district that isn’t dominated by national corporately owned chains and predacious financial interests that funnel money to New York and California or Arkansas. Every open door you walk in down here is a mom-and-pop shop and you can talk to the owners and even help out if you want. Bringing Johnny Manchild here was an attempt, however small, to say “Hey, we can bring cool new stuff here and people will support it. It was a preview of what will be possible when the new Downtown Event Center opens. People can come to this small town and spend a weekend and shop and eat and stroll and see a world-class concert too. Maybe we failed at accomplishing all of that, but I don’t consider it a failure. It was fun. Everyone that paid for their ticket got their money’s worth. Johnny and the band told me they had a great time, loved Brownwood, and would love to come back. That’s a win in my book.
Listen, we’re overcoming down here. We’re defeating the old defeatist Brownwood attitude, the toxic nostalgia of some unhappy people, and the whispers of failure that some people thrive upon. We invite everyone to come down and watch us as the year dawns new and these businesses and a host of new ones shine brightly downtown. Saturday night in Downtown Brownwood was cool, and it was both old school and new school blended into an awesome thing. It was rock-n-roll like Elvis here in 1955, trumpets and swinging like Glen Miller here in 1943. We strolled on sidewalks under decked streetlamps amid trees lit for the season and it was fun.
Join us soon.
***
Michael Bunker is a local columnist for BrownwoodNews.com whose columns appear periodically on the website.
