There’s nothing better than live music, except when it’s one of your friends performing the live music at a venue that you adore for its intimacy and unpretentiousness and you’re surrounded by a wider group of friends who are all there for the very same reason – to support your pal and ease his nerves and show how excited you are to see him perform.

Such was my evening, and I’m still raving about it.

The place: Smith’s Olde Bar. For those not local to Atlanta, this is one of my favorite bars in town. The downstairs offers tattooed waitstaff with less-than-the-recommended allotment of teeth, ample pool tables, a kickass jukebox (though I was shocked to see that Elvis Costello’s Greatest Hits was missing “Veronica”, his best song ever), and even some Golden Tee to entertain the boys while the girls are being backstabby and gossipy, a result of the strong Vodka Soda’s they pour. The wood is dark, and the walls are lined with signed band posters showing the array of performers that stream through the down-and-dirty doors of the local hole-in-the-wall. The air is usually full of smoke, tempting those who are trying to kick the habit into relenting to their vice and bumming a cig from a perfect stranger.

The upstairs is where the magic happens. The room, unadorned, is flanked by a bar on the side and the performers spin their tales of love, life, loss and more while the crowd nods their heads, taps their feet and feels that the music is directed especially for them.

Last night, the performers were nothing less than fantastic. A trio of cousins, John Moye directed a family affair as his cousin, strumming the guitar and brother, playing the drums added melody to his Ben-Folds-esque piano tunes. His voice was crisp and clear, rattling off lyrics that spanned from the heartwarming to the amusing, my favorite being about a pompous British guy named Jim Treadly who had “better tread gently.” Poetry in motion.

I’ve always been a huge music fan, and more than even clothing or hairstyles, songs evoke memories of days and moments passed, bringing them clearly into the forefront of our lives as if they just happened seconds ago. I remember sitting in my friends’ bedroom listening to “To Be With You” by Mr. Big and listening to her chat about her new, older, and somewhat rebellious love interest. I remember aching through the chorus of the song, wishing I had a new, older, and somewhat rebellious love interest as well. I remember sitting in my black pleather chair in my basement, excited and trying to combat the butterflies in my stomach as we listened to “More Than Words” by Extreme and I received my first kiss. I remember driving through the streets of my home town with my best friend, listening to “Send Me On My Way” by Rusted Root and realizing the significance of the words, as she was leaving me in the depths of High School life as she headed off to the glamourous land of college. I remember sailing down Airport Road in the hot Carolina heat screaming “Semi-Charmed Life” as my friend in the car behind me did exactly the same. I remember having dance parties when I lived up at UVA to “You Sexy Thing” and knowing that the soundtrack of the summer was “Boogie Nights.” (And trust me, we boogied our nights away.) I remember the confusion of the time right before you graduate and trying to hold on to anything familiar, driving to “Go Your Own Way” and being inconsolable because my man o’ the moment was doing just that. (Without me, I must add.) I remember driving to a wedding with a guy who I refused to see as anything but perfect for me, listening to “Amber” by 311 and just willing it to work out even though my heart and my mind knew that it never would.

In the soundtrack of our lives, there are moments that stand out, mental snapshots of people and places and scenes. Woven together, they make up the quilt of your experiences, a warm and inviting memory where you know everything was right in the world for at least one moment. Music is the fibers of this quilt, tying the people to the places to the events. And as each day passes, we add to our quilt of life, with a secret smile or hand on the small of your back or a joke passed between just the two of you. We too often plan so far ahead that we miss where we are right now, miss the very experience as its happening.

Last night was one of those moments where for once, we were brought into the here and now, forgetting about the there and then. Looking around at people I knew well, people I hadn’t seen in forever, and people I just met, it became clear that moments like this were too few and far between, and that I want more of them.

So now, I remember sitting in a music hall with the flickering candlelight brightening the smiles on people’s nodding faces, laughing with friends and being nothing less than happy in the present, listening to Moye. And loving every bit of it.