Where We Choose to Be: Sam Holt, Sunny Ortiz and the Power of Gratitude

When you strip away the lights, the noise, and the mythology that surrounds a band like Widespread Panic, you’re left with something simple and rare: musicians who still feel lucky to be on stage, and fans who choose to show up, again and again, because they know there’s nowhere else they’d rather be.

In recent conversations with Sam Holt and Domingo “Sunny” Ortiz, what stood out wasn’t just their stories about Athens, setlists, or even their memories of Mikey Houser and Todd Nance. It was the way both men returned, almost instinctively, to a shared truth: the music only matters because people want to be there.

Moments Before the First Note

Holt talked about the quiet ritual he and his band sometimes practice backstage: clearing the room for five minutes to reset and acknowledge the moment.

“Man, we’re so lucky to be here,” he’ll tell his bandmates. “With all this craziness in the world, right here together, playing this music for people who want to hear it and chose to be here.”

That acknowledgment isn’t just stage banter—it’s a lens through which Holt approaches performing. The idea that both the musician and audience members are meeting by choice, in that room, at that time, is something he doesn’t take for granted.

Seeing from Both Sides

Ortiz carries the same perspective, shaped in part by his own first show as a fan. Long before Panic, he was just a teenager in Waco, Texas, staring wide-eyed at James Brown and the Famous Flames in 1968.

“[The audience all knew] that’s exactly where they wanted to be…When you come to a show, the whole vibe. That connection between the person next to you, friend or stranger, is still critical. That’s the music scene. That’s life.”

Decades later, from behind the percussion rig, Ortiz still recognizes that same energy in the fans who gather in front of him. He knows what it means to commit to being in that room, giving your attention and your energy, because he’s been there himself..

Respect, Carried Forward

Both Holt and Ortiz speak of respect—not just for the craft or for their late bandmates, but for the exchange that happens in real time between the stage and the floor. For Holt, it’s honoring the rare gems from Mikey and Todd, often even the ones Panic rarely or even never plays, and treating them with the same reverence as any classic. For Ortiz, it’s making sure every beat still feels alive after 40 years.

The thread running through it all is humility. Neither man speaks of performance as entitlement. Instead, it’s something closer to stewardship, an understanding that the music lasts only as long as people keep choosing to show up for it.

The Choice to Belong

Holt and Ortiz remind us that whether you’re in the crowd, on the stage, or remembering those who aren’t there anymore, the music works because everyone involved made the decision to be present. In an era where attention is constantly divided, that’s no small thing.

And maybe that’s the quiet magic of a Panic show, or a Holt set, or any night in Athens where music spills into the air: for a few hours, everyone there knows they are exactly where they want to be.

🎵 Blog Soundtrack: “Solitude” by Michael Houser