Ferraby Lionheart opened the night by stepping into the light alone, with only a guitar in arm. Dressed in 70’s-style paisley cords, he stood on stage endearingly dwarfed by his guitar. His first song demonstrated his impressive finger picking, however did little to entice the crowd. As I contemplated how he might sound with a full band, out stomped three gentlemen (grabbing a guitar, a bass, and drumsticks) and a band was made. At last, with additional instruments, Lionheart’s music reached the depth that I craved.
Lionheart’s talent was exemplified in his performance of “Dear Corinne.” Pounding drums drove the song forward, accompanied by eloquent and thoughtful lyrics. Stretching his range, Lionheart’s lips curled, nearly sneering in his attempt to hit notes both high and pure.
Sometimes it’s the quick smile that flashes across a performer's face, an unpreventable tapping of the foot, or the undeniable joy seen in the guitarist as he rocks across the stage: whatever it is, at some point during the evening the audience glimpses the world of the performer. There is inevitably something that instantly connects the viewer to the viewed. We feel for an instant that they understand us and we understand them.
If ever there were a band that opened itself to an audience, it is Noah and the Whale. With heart-wrenchingly honest lyrics, Noah and the Whale puts to song emotions that echo in my mind and thrum through my body. Their music is beautiful poetry that explains the pain of the dumped, the joy of the loved, and the confusion of those moving on yet moving nowhere.
Lead singer Charlie Fink stoically performed the beginning of the set, singing stone-faced of loves lost and found. Midway through "Mary," he suddenly stopped and, smiling sheepishly, remarked "Hold that thought, I’m playing this in the wrong key," before picking up his tune again. At the end of the song, claiming it was a metaphor for “Mary” because “It’s a tough journey but you get there at the end,” he smiled ruefully once more before returning to his neutral expression.
Tom Hobden, the keyboardist-turned-fiddler, was the obvious favorite of the ladies surrounding me. With a shy smile that flitted across his face, he enticed the audience with his sweet innocence and sheer joy at performing. But while his love of music was mesmerizing, his mastery of the fiddle was awe-inspiring. The addition of the fiddle as well as a bit of brass (trombone and trumpet) made for a truly unique and full performance. At times, the band’s sound dissolved/evolved into a cohesive jam somehow reminiscent of a Scottish jig. As if at a ho-down, the audience enthusiastically clapped as the fiddler’s bow screamed across the strings and the zebra-print boots of Urby Whale, the bassist, stomped along to the beat.
Noah and the Whale perfect the art of the live show. Their sound seems to engulf the audience and yanks us into their world. Watching them, there are no moments of daydreaming or fleeting thoughts; there is only room for the sound, the emotional reaction, and the joy of seeing such an amazing performance.
