“What the actual fuck? What the actual fuck!” That’s what the woman seated in front of me kept repeating the last time I saw Chris Rayman perform at House of Cards in downtown Nashville. Rayman, whose title is Mentalist-in-Residence (not a “mind reader,” he stresses), had just accurately revealed the name of the woman’s childhood bestie. All of the magicians at the restaurant-slash-magic-venue are pros, but Rayman, who performs six days a week, commands audiences both in the drinking-and-dining area and in the larger traditional stage space with equal ease, conjuring the names of people’s unseen friends and pets and performing card tricks. Self-deprecation is part of Rayman’s act, and that modesty puts everyone at ease — even those loathe to engage in audience participation. Perhaps it’s then, when defenses are down, that one telepathically reveals the fact that one’s childhood dog’s name was Peyton. MARGARET LITTMAN
Best Magician
Chris Rayman
