Man About Town: Gainesville's Michael Claytor

Michael Claytor is locking up his bicycle outside of the coffee shop Volta. An old co-worker is telling him about his future plans, and Michael is excitedly nodding and smiling to signal he’s on board.

Michael Claytor is walking up to the counter at Volta, and several pairs of eyes are turning towards him and waiting for their moment of acknowledgment. Every pair of eyes gets what they’re looking for, as well as a wave and a smile.

Michael Claytor is sitting at a tiny table outside of Volta, sipping out of a tiny cup, and as people walk down Second Street they look at him, and he looks and smiles right back.

There’s a reason his friends jokingly refer to him as Mr. Gainesville. The man is one of the town’s most recognized and most beloved musicians. He receives a greeting fit for Norm Peterson when he enters a room. But don’t think that he’s carrying around an inflated ego.

Michael’s performed his brand of folk and Americana at Gainesville venues nearly every week since 2007 (with some time off spent in China), but he acts like more of a master of ceremonies than the star of the show.

“Ever since the beginning, the shows have been as much, if not more, about the people who come out to see us,” he says.

Back in 2007, Michael started playing original material on guitar and banjo in the backroom of Flaco’s, the Cuban bakery on the corner of University and Second. Every Wednesday for nearly two years, Michael and a rotating cast of his friends shoved a drum kit and usually a stand-up bass in a room barely big enough to jump a rope in. Some friends, like bassist Michael Pedron, drummer Evan Garfield, and singer and guitarist Devon Stuart Vlasin, were present without fail. Other friends, like Ricky Kendall and Morningbell’s Travis Atria, played every so often. But routines were established. Near the end of the night, the crowd was always whipped into a frenzy by a rendition of “Solidarity Forever,” complete with fists a’pumping and beers a’sloshing. But Michael doesn’t take much credit for the phenomenon.

“It had less to do with us and the music and more to do with the people who came. The size of the room – it was so small you felt like you had to be involved. People starting shouting things,” he says. “We were just the background music for the whole thing, for the community.”

Sam Moss, a close friend who sings with Michael in acts like Ricky Kendall and the Healers, remembers it a little differently.

“I believe Flaco’s started out with a close-knit turnout simply because everyone loves Michael Claytor,” she says. “People appreciated the comfort of knowing that every week you could wander into that back room and bump into some of your best friends, drink some absurdly cheap beer, sing along to some true talent and be a part of the Michael Claytor and Devon Stuart banter.”

In later years, Michael played his style of near-surgical finger-picking weekly at the Bull, which made for a quieter, more genteel atmosphere. The audience had graduated college and now overdressed for a Wednesday night. Currently, Michael plays (still on Wednesdays) with Devon Stuart Vlasin as the Adult Boys Thunderband at Loosey’s. Devon says collaborating with Michael is easy.

“Basically, the Thunderband process goes like this: we come up with some kind of theme for a song and write a chorus together. Then we come up with a chord progression or basic melody for the verses and go home separately and write our verse. There have been a few times where we never even heard the other’s verse before we performed it together,” he says. “I’d say he is one of the most crafty and intelligent songwriters I know. I feel like he could harmonize with a guitar string breaking.”

Audiences follow Michael through the years and into different venues because of the genuine sweetness that radiates from his music and his person. In the song “Pines, Pines, Pines,” he sings with Sam, “When I’m lonely I keep only you in mind. But when you’re holding me I’ll always be fine, fine, fine.” And hearts all over the room melt into a collective puddle.

Ricky Kendall regularly performs with Michael and also works with him as musicians-in-residence at Shands. He says Michael’s relaxed humility makes him a treasure to the patients he spends time with.

“I once referred to him as an alien from a friendlier planet,” he says. “It’s why he does such a great job working with patients at UF Health. When someone latches onto a song he’s singing, he’s there to listen to a story of theirs as well.”

Michael says, “Sometimes people are there for months without anyone visiting them. A lot of people just need someone to talk to. It’s a really great complement to playing regular shows. It feels like you’re having a more direct impact.”

In an artistic community as small and tight-knit as Gainesville’s, Michael serves as facilitator to help those around him realize their creative goals. And when the time comes, his friends willingly back his projects, because they know working with him will be a laid-back and positive experience. Ricky says there is no hurriedness or angst in anything Michael produces.

“I think a lot of musicians, including myself at times, struggle with this notion of being heard. There’s this overwhelming need to get as many people to listen as possible. Michael doesn’t really approach anything that way,” he says. “He’s content to put his songs out there and whoever grabs hold of it is who his audience will be. He’s a contented guy.”