On any given day along the Atlanta Beltline, music often arrives before the man himself.
Roller skates hum against the pavement, a voice cuts through the noise of foot traffic, and Kevin Randolph, better known to many as “Beltline Kevin”, moves past walkers, runners and cyclists, singing greetings and creating brief moments of connection.
“It’s exercise, but I get to interact with people at the same time,” Randolph said.
Randolph became a familiar presence on the Beltline after the pandemic, a period he said left many people struggling to recobelnnect with one another.
“I started [skating and singing on the Beltline] after [COVID], OK? Because after [the pandemic] people started coming back out, they were.. really weird,” he said. “Most people live… in one a bedroom by themselves, like me… [they] didn’t see anybody for nine months.”
When he returned to the trail, Randolph said he noticed something unsettling in the people he passed each day.
“The… people I saw running and walking and skating every day… were… like zombies,” he said. “So then I started… singing at them, saying hello to them… and then it just kind of brought them out of [their] shell.”
What began as a spontaneous interaction soon became something people expected, and, in some cases, depended on.
“One night [a woman] told me that she was going through chemotherapy and that I got her through it,” Randolph said.
Though many recognize Randolph primarily as the singing rollerblader, he said his background is often misunderstood.
Before the Beltline, Randolph said performance had long been part of his life. He did ballet in college, competed as a gymnast and sang in choirs and solos. Running later became his primary outlet until injuries forced him to change course.
That visibility, however, comes with challenges, particularly outside the familiar space of the Beltline.
Randolph said that as a Black man, he often encounters misconceptions about his intelligence and education, even though his background includes advanced degrees and technical training.
“I have to be careful when I go in, like the markets,” Randolph said. “When I’m just…regular Kevin… I’m just another Black man.”
On the Beltline, recognition shifts those interactions.
“At first they’re nervous, but then they get to know me out here as the character — the singing rollerblader,” he said.
Despite moments of tension or misunderstanding, Randolph said his motivation remains simple.
“I just want to make them smile,” he said.
For him, wealth or fame are not measures of fulfillment.
“I know, I have friends that are millionaires and they’re not happy,” Randolph said. “They think money is going to make them happy and fame is going to make them happy.”
What began as a casual interaction on the Beltline has led to larger opportunities, Randolph said, including hitting the spike at the Oct.18 Atlanta United game and a partnership with a local taco shop.
The brief connections formed in passing are what matter most, the moments, Beltline Kevin believes, are increasingly rare in modern life.
“I see couples walking down the Beltline, and they’re not talking,” he said. “They’re on their phone instead of communicating with each other.”
As the city grows denser and more digital, Randolph believes the solution is simple and human.
“Come back out, get away, get off the computer, off the phone, come back out,” he said.
