An Ode to Eddie’s Attic—a Room for Listening
Photo by Josh Jackson
Just before my 21st birthday, my two best friends went to see my favorite band without me. It was a 21-and-over show, and my lame, law-abiding ass didn’t have a fake ID. And while I was jealous not to get to see Vigilantes of Love for the hundredth or so time, it was the venue, Eddie’s Attic, and the opening act, Kristian and Andrew, they couldn’t stop talking about.
Last Friday night, one of those friends and I saw the same act (long since redubbed Billy Pilgrim) at Eddie’s more than three decades later, this time with our respective wives. It was a gloriously nostalgic evening, and it had me thinking that even though so much has changed—in our lives, in the lives of Kristian Bush and Andrew Hyra, in the world around us—Eddie’s has remained wonderfully unchanged in so many ways.
My first trip to the upstairs music venue in downtown Decatur, Ga. was the day I finally turned 21, just a few months after the show I missed and just a year after Eddie Owen opened the place. Those same two buddies took me to see local singer/songwriter Matt Brown. I purchased my first legal bottle of Rolling Rock and we settled in to games of pool in the back room, where we could hang out and chat (“We encourage a listening atmosphere in our music room,” a fading banner on stage still reads, “but have set up our patio for partying and being rowdy.”) At one point, I left them to go listen to the show.
At one point, Brown asked if anyone had a request. I called out “Vulnerability,” my favorite song from Brown’s band Uncle Green. He said he couldn’t really sing that without backing vocals and, with the crowd’s urging, roped me into joining him on stage. I’ll never forget the looks on my friends’ faces when they walked into the room searching for me before noticing me singing on stage.
Not long after, I’d catch my first Kristian and Andrew show, one of just many favorites I’d see over the years in the roughly 150-cap room. Eddie’s helped launch the careers of Shawn Mullins, John Mayer, Collective Soul and Sugarland, who all played acoustic sets on the small stage before moving on to packing theaters and arenas across the world. But most of the shows I saw were singer/songwriters you’ve undoubtedly never heard of but who delighted the small, appreciative crowds who came for a night out of music and storytelling.
On several occasions, I got to serve as a judge of either the weekly open mic night or the semi-annual Eddie’s Open Mic Shootout, where the past 26 weeks of winners would compete for $1,000 prize. Previous winners included then-unknown John Mayer, Jennifer Nettles and Tyler Childers. If I could have swayed my fellow judges in the final round, that list would also have included a teenaged Faye Webster (seriously, I couldn’t believe it was even a question).
After I got married, moved away and returned to Atlanta to start Paste, one of my favorite Eddie’s shows was when my wife and I took our kids to see a young Brandi Carlile. My youngest slept through most of it, but the older girls listened, as rapt as the rest of the quiet, packed room. The next time we’d all see her in concert would be at the 2,600-capacity Tabernacle.