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GREENSBORO - Singer-songwriter Chris Smither will step on stage Sunday night in downtown Greensboro, surrounded by mannequins and dresses made of imported polyester that feels as fine as silk.

But forget about snagging a ticket. The show is sold out. All 100 tickets. Without a flier posted, an ad bought or a radio station even mentioning a musician whose voice is more late-night mumble than full-throated roar.

It shows you the connective power of the Internet. It also shows you the collective strength of discriminating music listeners who got tired of seeing Greensboro as, according to one promoter, a "black hole.''

They call themselves Triad Acoustic Stage. But that's really just a fancy name for a crew of volunteers who tired of traveling to see musicians they liked.

So far, they've brought in five musicians from America's fragmented acoustic music scene. Smither is the sixth. Of those shows, three of them have been sellouts.

The crew from Triad Acoustic Stage is a savvy bunch. They've created a Web site, sold the tickets and found enough chairs so everyone can sit rather than stand.

They keep enough money to cover their expenses. They give everything else to the musicians - anywhere from $750 to $1,800 - who perform at one of their main musical headquarters.

That's a dress factory.

It's strange. Especially for musicians.

They'll step onto the patchwork of parquet wood, see the fancy clothes on the far wall and quip, "It's the first time I've ever played in front of a mannequin.''

Still, the dresses and mannequins help Mack and Mack, a dress factory on South Elm Street, sound as warm as downtown Greensboro's Grand Old Lady, the Carolina Theatre, two blocks away.

Meanwhile, these volunteers - the very people who sold the tickets and set up the 12 rows of metal chairs - create for themselves a like-minded community in a place some see as musically inspiring as Muzak.

"I've so glad to find you,'' one promoter told Bill Payne, one of the organizers of Triad Acoustic Stage. "I've always thought Greensboro was a black hole.''

Greensboro has had its live-music moments, whether it's been the big shows at the Greensboro Coliseum, the smaller shows at the Carolina or even the festivals steered by the Eastern Music Festival.

But Greensboro is no Austin, Texas, or even Chapel Hill. Our music scene is often one-dimensional, geared toward twentysomethings, drawn by beer, cover bands and the lure of the opposite sex.

And Payne, himself a middle-aged musician, often feels lost.

"I've played in rooms in front of 17 people and 12 people are watching TV and five others are looking to score,'' says Payne, 55, who plays with the bluegrass band Alley Rabbits. "I'd rather play in my garage.''

Eighteen months ago, while he and his wife drove north along Interstate 81, Payne got an idea.

He had received an e-mail from musician Stevie Coyle, who asked about doing a house concert in Greensboro because he was, like many musicians, passing through.

So, as they drove north along I-81, Payne asked his wife, JoAnn, "How could this work?''

He approached his friend John Davis, who helps run Mack and Mack with his wife, Robin, and asked about booking Coyle at their place. Payne got the green light.

He had no Web site, no e-mail list, nothing except faith and a pack of tickets he gave his friends to sell. But a year ago this week, he walked toward Mack and Mack and saw a line forming outside the door.

Six shows later, Payne will see another one Sunday night.

For Payne, his idea that sprouted along I-81 has begun to bear fruit.

Contact Jeri Rowe at 373-7374 or jeri.rowe@news-record.com