It's no secret I'm a fan of Walt Wilkins. The Austin, Texas-based singer/songwriter absolutely won me over when he and the Mystiqueros closed out one of the nights of the Chattahippie Music Festival last September. That was a musical experience that, for me, bordered on the spiritual.

Tonight's clear winners in terms of attendance were definitely Montgomery Gentry, the Coke Stage headliners, who packed out the lawn on both sides of the street. But missing Wilkins and the Mystiqueros close out the TVCU Stage was something I wasn't prepared to do.

On other nights, I might have begged off walking the 13 or 14 blocks to the festival for an artist, but I've been waiting to see if the concert was a fluke and wasn't about to miss my chance.

The skies didn't let loose like they did last year, but lightning definitely struck twice.

Some of you might have written off Wilkins because an artist's origin in Texas carries with it a lot of preconceptive baggage. I thought the same thing going into the festival last year, and almost didn't stay for his show but for the last-minute advice of a longtime fan. I'm really glad I did because Wilkins' music is rousing and definitely Texas, but its borders are significantly greater than the state's.

That midnight performance last year under a veil of rain was moving enough to make me a follower of the Mystiquerian path. Maybe I'm totally off the reservation on this and am just convincing myself that the music had a stronger impact on me just because I wanted it to, but after witnessing the same energy for a second time, I don't care if I'm wrong.

Despite being seated in the front row next to two annoying kids who decided to play angry ring around the rosie (the best name I can think of for whatever they were doing) right next to me, I was riveted.

Wilkins and Company ran through almost all my favorites, including "Mustang Island," "18 Days of Rain," "Just Like Hank" and "Diamonds in the Sun." People were dancing out in front, which in my mind, is a clear sign that the music is connecting on the right levels. I just wish I didn't have an injured foot and lifelong inability to subject myself to potential ridicule.

For those who missed their opportunity to hear the Mystiqueros live this year or at Chattahippie, the passion and soul they pour into their songs is transcendent. They're not just the kind of band you love, but one you can convert to. Judging by the throng of people speaking to him after the show, it seems I'm far from the only acolyte on the honky-tonk road.

E-mail Casey Phillips at cphillips@timesfreepress.com