Bryan John Appleby approaches the microphone alone. He is joined by a band at the end of the first song, and they begin to play “The Rider, the Horse, the Land.” Appleby’s voice is sweet and warm in its delivery, and his request of the audience midway through the set may explain why. “I’ll give somebody a CD for a whiskey,” he tells us. Throughout the rest of his performance, revolving audience members place cups of it on the stage, and Appleby and his band mates gladly partake. Mellower songs lead into forceful sounds and violent strums that are as captivating as they are pleasing to the ears. The band members pause to hug one another, and camaraderie among all of the night’s performers will be a running theme this evening. They are joined by The Head and the Heart‘s Josiah Johnson for “Cliffs Along the Sea,” and the final song hums with electricity. I’m sad to see him go so quickly, but his catalog is brief.
When I last saw Kelli Schaefer, she was singing dark, earnest songs that sounded as if some unseen force were dragging them out of her. This time she appears more confident and forceful, and has greater command of the stage. She digs deep to produce a brazen vocal explosion for the intro song, and maintains this level of intensity for several more. Mid-set, drummer Jeremiah Hayden frees one of his drums, leaves his station, and circles the stage while thumping out a heavy rhythm. Theatricality and grand gestures are incorporated into the performance, with guitars tossed to the ground and additional incidences of wandering drummer. There is raw emotion present in the delivery of every song, as if each member of the band is feeling particularly troubled tonight. Hayden casually tosses his tambourine across the stage, where it is retrieved and played by a member of another band who has emerged from backstage. Schaefer’s set ends and she shuffles away looking distracted. Her talent is evident, but something is quietly tormenting her this evening.
“Writing a pop song/eating a popsicle,” are the lyrics to the cute intro mini-song that serves as our formal introduction to The Head and the Heart. This performance is sold out, due in part to the band’s canceled Doug Fir appearance last month. The members perform with giant grins, and look truly happy to be onstage. They play the first full song like a tiny electrified orchestra, and fierce drumming from Tyler Williams pushes the drum set – shared by all three bands – against the cinderblock intended to hold it in place. The air is thick with their energy, and I wish the band could bottle this liveliness for sale to the more lethargic acts that pass through town.
Each song is loaded with the sounds of shakers, tambourines, and violins that add to the overall complexity of their folksy-pop sound. Reminiscent of old hymnals adapted to suit modern ears, the lyrics are complex and heartfelt. Primary vocalist Charity Rose Thielen draws her words out carefully and coyly. After several of their own songs, the band announces that they will be playing a cover from 1926. They omit the title, but it sounds like Jimmie Rodgers’ “Blue Yodel #1.” The Head and the Heart enhance their presence during the final number, stretching far larger than themselves and taking up all available space. They are still consumed by the joy of performing, and have not forgotten the feeling of being on the other side of the stage. Members of the previous two bands crowd onto the stage to play any available instruments and contribute their voices to the cacophony that envelops us. The set ends in an acapella sing-along featuring all three bands and a select few audience members who know the words. The band returns for its obligatory encore performance, but nothing can top the collaborative effort of the previous song. Filled with rich melodies from the aptly named the Head and the Heart, we audience members shuffle warmly into the chilly night.
