As the evening breeze whispered through the courtyard of Foxy Loxy Café, the Salt Flat Pickers took their stand on the storied Acoustic Altar, ready to weave a tapestry of tunes under the Savannah sky. With bricks steeped in history and a chorus of eager college kids lending their ears, we kicked off Bluegrass First Friday, where coffee wasn’t the only thing brewing—a storm of string music was about to pour down.
Rocco, with mandolin in hand, teased out the intro to “25 to Life” with a sly grin, knowing he had the crowd from the first note. That mandolin might as well have been a wand the way he cast a spell over the audience, mixing mischief with melody.
Jake, our banjo maestro, delivered a rendition of “Foggy Mountain Breakdown” that could make Earl Scruggs tip his hat. His fingers danced a furious jig across the strings, stirring up a bluegrass frenzy that had the crowd clapping like thunder.
Not to be outdone, Trevor’s guitar strings cried out with the soulful wail of “Dust in a Baggie,” his solo carving out its own legend in the Savannah night. Each note plucked was a story told, and we hung on every word.
Our Friday night unfolded like a well-loved map, with each song a path to new memories, each solo a landmark in the landscape of sound. Between the strings of mandolin, banjo, guitar, and bass, we found the heart of our music, and perhaps, the heart of Savannah herself.
It wasn’t just about the notes we played—it was about the smiles we shared, the connections we made, and the echoes of laughter that mingled with our music. That’s the real magic of Bluegrass First Friday; it’s not just a gig, it’s a gathering of friends, old and new.
So, here’s to nights that resonate with more than just music—to the ties that bind and tunes that stay with you long after the last note fades. Till we pick again, keep the strings tight and your coffee strong.
Check out the snapshot Todd Twilbeck took of our night at Foxy Loxy’s Acoustic Altar where each instrument, silent now, holds the night’s energy in its strings.
