House Show Indie Kid Scored a Lucky Gig with Daniel Champagne

It bears mentioning that I'm now 28 years old, and that use of the word 'kid' with that bit of context left out is mere wishful thinking flirting with self-denial, and I'm not into that. This story takes place at a house venue in the sketchy part of town (where any different setting is rare) one random work night in 2016. This house venue in particular was a frequent for surprise gigs with surprising pull once in a while. The owner was employed sorely by his laptop and operated under an "anti-wage slave" mindset the venue patrons and roommates failed to question and I ignored.

There were successful nights there. It's where I brought what touring acts I knew, where I got to spend an afternoon day drinking with Chad Hates George, and where I met countless folk-outfits you would typically only see on Reddit. I was the odd-one-out being that most of my nights I spent grinding away over a deep-fat fryer in a burnt uniform at Rooster's Wings, 30 miles away, and my days landscaping or taking up opening porter-gigs at startup restaurants who wanted to pay less than minimum wage (I mean, hey. I'll take it.)

A brief history of this particular neighborhood of Columbus, OH house venues is quite worth its own article. For now, I'm into making my debut talking about the work of a guitar master I was lucky to meet thanks to it.

After a day-shift at Rooster's I was texted, out of a pool of maybe-artists who may or may not have been free last minute. The show was being headlined by Daniel Champagne, and none of us knew anything about him other than that he was Australian, and one of his other stop in the area fell threw, so it was time for an emergency booking.

In terms of how the show went, it was typical. Very small, self contained, closed circuited, and loosely populated by some ex-scene hipsters and their friends. When we saw Daniel, and the explosive talent, it was definitely stand-out compared to a band or a local. What I had grown accustomed to at that business was that you never quite knew who you were going to run into. Where the night stood out was in the performance itself.

Daniel tapped away, percussed with his hands, and kept the living room affixed. A few of the greener attendees jaws hit the floor, percussing his play-style even further. The rest of us observed, as if taking a lesson. It was a smash hit. I couldn't help, standing with the other acts of the night off to the side, feeling that as a group, we had been outclassed. Usually when that happened I felt bad for the headliner, and yet he didn't seem to mind. I remember talking with him that night and what stood out to me about him was his gleaming with contentment-- Like he could play and literally has played anywhere.

In fact, for the other acts, no matter their level of experience, he gave no commentary and his full attention. Banter not only kept to a minimum, but muted-- The definition of the strong and silent type. Strong in his performance, silent in any form of condescension. The man was a collection of experiences with very little in the way of preferences.

Truth be told, my sudden inspiration to talk about this night rarely hinges on the event itself. It's lasting impression from the artist comes from his mannerisms, his expertise, and looking him up years later to find out that-- He's quite good.

His Audiotree Live session is an addictive listen, with him speaking (at times rather aggressively) through the neck of his wayworn acoustic. His style varies from Australian, shoreside wilderness to the deep blues, and his voice retains a consistent pop-element. But what always keeps me coming back are the lyrics. He sings about the intoxicating side-affects of love in the song Atlas Heart: "Like we're both drunken sailors in charge of this ship's wheel."

Or the onset of sudden inspiration and vitality in All of My Stars: "All of my heart, all of my dreams, all of my stars, start to come back to me."

I really did not realize the night I met this guy what a treat us indie punks were in for-- The man is a deserved sensation, touring non-stop, and a virtuoso of acoustic finger-style that has me researching to be a more literate guitar player myself, as if now I owe to society somehow. I'm glad to have met the man behind the music, to see a humbled and quiet persona behind the expressions, to have a story that ties us together, even loosely. We bro hugged, called it a night, and he's continued to set the bar in terms of class ever since.

Working in the indie-music scene can be grimy. It can be backbiting and difficult in ways traditional employment would seem to stop, often for little to no return in the investments. But the love of the game comes in the ride. You never know who your going to meet, how you'll meet them, and what an influence that meet can turn into.