Live Review: Waxahatchee, Kevin Morby

On a stage adorned with Australian native flowers, Kevin Morby strums a prelude that meanders into Parade. Stripped-down, solo versions of songs from across his impressively consistent catalogue follow, including a version of Mess Me Around by his former band The Babies. Its abrasive lyrics (“You’re a dumb fuck, you fucking idiot”) are funnier and more surprising in this setting. 

Aboard My Train shows off Morby’s upper register, as he projects the song’s impassioned second half. For Destroyer and Ferris Wheel he sits at a keyboard, plinking out the songs’ simple chords. For highlight Harlem River, Morby uses a loop pedal to create a bed of chords over which he does some inspired-but-not-wanky soloing. A faithful cover of No Place To Fall by Townes Van Zandt is a pleasant conclusion to his set.

After a mercifully short break – during which a startling number of people leave - Waxahatchee begins her solo set with Chapel Of Pines. Two thirds of the song’s lyrics consist of the phrase “Will you go?”, drawn out and repeated over and over, as if she’s daring anyone else not feeling what she’s doing to leave. Covers of Lucinda Williams and Detroit band Bonny Doon rub shoulders with slow, understated versions of Waxahatchee songs like Recite Remorse, La Loose and Sparks Fly. Unfamiliar songs with common chord progressions played acoustically tend to blur together. Both artists tonight do an admirable job of keeping things interesting. 

Katie Crutchfield is drawing from far and wide across her career, revealing the consistency of songwriting quality throughout her varied work as Waxahatchee. Tennessee, a song from Crutchfield’s old band PS Eliot sits comfortably beside new compositions like Singer’s No Star and Fade. Takes So Much is stunning, another showcase of the versatility of Crutchfield’s voice. 

The show reaches new heights when the two return to the stage together, beginning with a cover of The Dark Don’t Hide It by the great Magnolia Electric Co. Next is a glorious cover of It Ain’t Me Babe by Bob Dylan and Joan Baez. It’s a bold move to invite comparisons to two of the great singer-songwriters of all time, but their gorgeous, glacial version holds its own. Finally, a version of Morby’s Beautiful Strangers is the rare paean to peace and love that manages to avoid being cloying. What a lovely song, what a lovely duo, what a lovely night.