You’ll never be disappointed when the band’s got a bottle of Jameson on stage. Alright, maybe that’s not true, but in the case of Butch Walker and the Black Widows, you will NEVER be disappointed. Saturday night at the Beachland Ballroom was a night to remember.
The thing about Walker is he encapsulates everything you’re looking for in a musician. He’s delicate and nuanced one song, and boisterous the next. He’s rock ‘n roll laced with enough blues to make a grown man cry. He’s up there loving his job, this much is evident.
Butch Walker’s set opened with Walker acapella. He came to the microphone, rocking a floppy cowboy hat and holding a shot. Then he belted the hell out of “Cigarette Lighter Love Song”, a piece of his past as a member of Marvelous 3. He played a lot of the old stuff, most notably “Passed Your Place, Saw Your Car, I Thought of You”.
Sitting at the keys, Walker delicately let the words of this song fall from his lips. With lyrics like “I never got to say/before you passed away/that love was just a word/before you showed it to me,” he touched every heart in the room. He let the crowd take the vocals on “Every Monday” as he just stood midstage, strumming out the chords. “Well, this is gonna be an easy night if all I’ve got to do is stand up here and play guitar while you sing,” he joked.
After a few more songs, Walker said, “I’m gonna go find my band,” walking off stage briskly. Cue the Black Widows, an eclectic group comprised of the cream of the crop of the opening bands and rounded out with a few more players, such as Mark Stepro behind the set. This is when it got real. It was no longer a concert, it was a damn party.
The Widows all rotate around the stage, commanding every instrument they touch with prowess that would leave you questioning which is their primary. The sound is consistently solid regardless of the rotation. As Stepro said, “everyone in this band is the best from his band, it’s a band of all-stars”.
Walker’s range is ridiculous; he oscillates from gritty to smooth. He’s got that voice that makes a girl scream and a guy tighten his grip on his lady, in fear that she’s going to take off following Walker’s tour bus into the sunset. Even when he screams it’s melodic.
It’s fitting that he chose to call the band the Black Widows. Like the arachnid, they bite and there’s not a chance in hell to recover. I came to this show enjoying the music, probably what I’d call a mild enthusiast, and I’m leaving here a full-blown believer. Ladies and gents, I have been bitten by the truest form of Americana rock ‘n roll and I don’t give a damn. Give my regards to classical music; I’ll follow this man and his band to hell and back. Or at least, to the next concert venue.
Walker was supported by four opening acts. First to the stage was Telstar, including Chris Unck and Eva Gardner from the Black Widows. This is a three piece set-up, featuring guitar, bass, and set. They boast female vocals with male harmonies. They’ve got all the traditional grit of rock ‘n roll, but pared down a bit.
Next to the stage was Sinclair. A couple of young kids right here trick you with their baby faces into thinking they’re going to just strum a bit on the guitar and hit the drums for a few. Don’t know where they got it, but these kids graduated magna cum laude from the university of rock ‘n roll.
They’ve got nice harmonies coupled with well thought out lyrics. I’m still musing over “like a misplaced mixtape that you couldn’t wait to pull out,” a comparison they drew to young love. They’re a little more country than rock, but I’ll forgive them.
Taking the stage next was Walker’s guitarist, Fran Capitanelli. Capitanelli brought some twangy rock to the stage. Most notable tune was definitely “My Favorite Jeans.”
Capitanelli definitely brought a more delicate feel to the stage, but when it’s just a man and his guitar for a few tunes, you’ll have that. I won’t lie, I’m definitely curious to hear Capitanelli’s solo album, Kave Talk.
Walker introduced the fourth band, Shovels & Rope, by recalling a story about when he heard them play, he could have sworn the devil flew out of singer Cary Ann Hearst’s mouth. I thought he was just being witty until she sang.
Hearst’s vocals recall Dolly Parton, but she’s got pipes that just won’t quit. She belts it all out, just like Walker said; it’s like she’s letting the demons leave her body.
This band’s a duo, featuring Hearst on guitar/vocals, and Michael Trent on drums. Until they switch. Their energy isn’t any less exciting when they switch instruments and Trent takes the vocals. Like that Southern Comfort, they go down smooth, either way.
