Rolling Stone-acclaimed Reedy bound for Strabane

A singer-songwriter acclaimed by Rolling Stone magazine as one of the best new country music stars, will play a duo of gigs in Strabane next month.
Pat Reedy and the newly formed local country band ‘One Night Stand’ will take to the stage in Dicey Reilly’s on Friday May 18 and then at Strabane Golf Club on May 20. 
Described as making “honest honky-tonk music for the modern world,” Pat Reedy has mixed twang, blue-collar songwriting, working-class pride, and an unconventional backstory into albums like 2018’s That’s All There Is.
According to legend, That’s All There Is was written during breaks in Reedy’s construction job, with lyrics scribbled down on scraps of paper and discarded pieces of wood. Some say that’s why these songs – with their warm, rough-around-the-edges charm – sound different than the contemporary country-pop hits recorded in Reedy’s adopted hometown of Nashville. 
Years before he moved to Nashville, a 21 year-old Reedy cut his teeth on the street corners of New Orleans. He quickly became one of the city’s busiest street buskers, strumming songs for the locals on Lower Decatur and the tourists on Bourbon Street. Those performances became the launching pad for his career, and although Reedy eventually graduated to proper venues, he never forgot the lessons learned during his roadside gigs.
“It taught me how to really sell a song,” Reedy says of his busking history. “How to draw a crowd, too. And, occasionally, how to fend off drunks.”
The title track from That’s All There Is finds him leaving town, his rearview mirror full of broken bridges that are beyond repair. “It’s about that feeling when there’s nothing to hold you someplace no more,” he explains. “There’s a broken relationship that you’ve tried to fix, but it’s not worthy and that’s all there is. It’s time to hit the road again and start over with a truck and a guitar. And maybe a dog.”
“I used to slum through town during my early 20s,” he remembers, “and it was during one of those train rides that I met a semi-retired circus clown who became my best friend. His name was Stumps the Clown. We’d busk on Broadway, then grab beers from a gas station and climb up the Shelby Pedestrian Bridge so we could look down over Nashville. Then we’d walk to the East Side and go to sleep in a punk house. Those houses don’t exist anymore, because the people got gentrified out.”

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