Meeting Matt the Electrician

Matt the Electrician sings at the Wyldwood

The first word that comes to mind is community.

Watching Matt the Electrician perform for the first time was a genuine feeling of Austin community.

He's not top-40. Matt Sever's work is not stenciled. His lyrics remind me of the family moments decorating a Christmas tree. There's this pause with individual handmade ornaments - -every piece is original and every story is something that can't be tossed.

He's literally singing his story.

The Wyldwood is an easy place to hear that story. The family-owned space serves free hotdogs with outdoor air conditioned spa-like bathrooms and plenty of room to sprawl out with snacks and your own favorite beverage.

Echoes of kids playing behind the music court serenaded the family feel. Kids weaved in and out of the grassy audience seats racing through with glowing sticks. Wild flowers and ivy clutched the trees. And, along the wooden stage, spotlights were clinging in silver buckets and tiny white holiday lights raced up tree trunks.

Before the show, the Wyldwood owners were gracious hosts, offering up food, bug spray, instructions, a warm our-home-is-your-home welcome and an unforgettable family-friendly joke.

The audience, hundreds deep, only captured a few photos. Instead, most sat in the moment connecting with every word.  And, while it was clear most of the community knew Matt's lyrics well, they chose to let Matt lead the journey.

A few fans even flew in from New York just to see him. Matt let them choose the next song, "Prison Bones," and he told the story of the creation of the song.

Vulnerability seemed to steer the ship. Matt talked about eyesight troubles in his early 40s and HAAM saving the day. And, he talked about losing his memory, sometimes.

My music genius friend Danielle is all-in when it comes to Matt's community too. As Matt was taking it all in, his words slipped his memory, just once. He paused.

Danielle chimed in from the second row, "You were singing ..." Matt said, "Thanks Danielle!"
And, the song was back on track.

It seemed that Matt writes about anything and can make any moment into a song. He pulled in humor. He pulled in life. He pulled in tiny details that we wouldn't have noticed before.

He sang a song he wrote for his wife and talked about "points"- - his wife in the front row. He sang a song he wrote for his son. He talked about the boy who's always hungry like dinner time is every time of day.

I've lived in Austin for six years. I've felt the creative vibe for a while, but never truly understood the feeling of community until Matt brought us all together. He reminded me of the art of just being- -to just be and, let it be.

And, as we were leaving, he stayed to shake hands, to give hugs, and to laugh with us- -most of us not leaving without getting a hello and a smile. He literally stood at the exit--not letting us get out of there without feeling appreciated.

In today's stages where big lights and loud noises and everything seems to have a vvvvroom or a spin, Matt was as come-as-you-are as they come. This guy was the same on stage and off stage.

And, as we piled out of the the green-lawned living room, strangers before, now, we left lighter- -connected.

Danielle's been bragging about Matt for at least a year now. I am so glad she invited me to come. And, local musicians I know and love call him "amazing."

I get it now.

It took me a long time to catch up.

And, I'm so glad I did.