Adam Harris Thompson’s heart is the wide base of old guitar, balmy with its sound, its rhythm and echoing plink. His heart leads, all up the wood-lined aisle of his neck, to his mouth: soaked in a little cigar smoke and the thick, rich lingering of good beer, Adam sings. What is low and riding in him, even if someone else has sung it before, Adam sings. Again and again, he sings it out himself. And people want to listen.
Adam Harris Thompson likes people in his Adam Harris Thompson way. He plays his guitar to like them. He sings what he knows to like them, to care for them. As a musician, Adam believes that every song wishes to make something known – be it a significant event, an ideal, belief, lament, emotion, or object/person of desire or worship. On stage, Adam does not neglect such reality, and enters each song as though a minister of each story. As though God too were in the audience sharing a drink after another long day. There’s a heartbreaking beauty in hearing Adam sing from his depths to this reality he believes so heartily, an unmistakable and visceral connection with every human need.
Adam has sung to bar stools and church pews, the same. Like the warm, acoustic voices that came before him, Adam doesn’t constrain himself to one crowd or another, one people or another, one idea or position. Every audience deserves a song, Adam believes. And every audience deserves the mercy of a good seat to hear that song, always. Because God is always sitting there, somewhere in the fray or quiet, listening like everyone.
So in that fray or quiet with everyone and God, Adam Harris Thompson sings.