I first fell in love with Willis Earl Beal’s voice after stumbling across video of a phenomenal performance under a bridge somewhere. His voice, powerful and soulful and emotive, was absolutely transfixing. His star quickly rose on the blogosphere as people caught wind of his fantastic (in all senses of the word) backstory. But it always came back to his voice. That voice.
When his debut album, Acousmatic Sorcery, dropped earlier this year, many people were taken aback. Where was the voice? Instead of booming bass and neo-soul, listeners were greeted with lo-fi experimentation. To some, the album sounded – as Beal eloquently put it on stage at Music Hall of Williamsburg – “like a bunch of bullshit.”
Let me assure you that Willis Earl Beal’s live performance is anything but a bunch of bullshit. He’s as captivating as they come; he prowls around the stage, standing up, sitting down, standing on chairs and draping himself in spraypainted bedsheets. His only accompaniment is a reel-to-reel tape player and the occasional noodling on electric guitar, but the man could stand on an empty stage and command your attention. It's a show that is difficult to describe in words.
Willis Earl Beal’s voice will give you goosebumps, shivers, and every other sort of visceral reaction you might have to seeing greatness in person. It’s textured and full of emotion, raw and yet acrobatic and capable of nailing high notes. If Beal weren’t averse to being pigeonholed as a neo-soul singer, you’d think of Cooke and Redding – high praise indeed. And though his act is full of conceits that might strike you as false in the hands of someone else – sunglasses, toothpick, mixed drink with an untouched straw – he comes off as completely genuine.
It sounds like hyperbole, but it is not. Willis Earl Beal is a unique talent, unlike any artist I have ever seen in concert. Go see him live. Go hear that voice.
