For much of the fall, the new Barr Brothers new record, Sleeping Operator, has been in constant rotation on my Spotify account, so when I caught wind of this show I immediately put it on my radar. A Saturday at the Sinclair is always the perfect carrot-at-the-end-of-a-stick motivator to get me through the work week. Then, it happened. Thursday, the Louie C.K. last minute show announcement. Three shows over two days (a fourth was later added) at the teeny-weeny, so cute, underused and under-appreciated Somerville Theater, an opportunity to see a legend in an intimate local setting. Even better yet, every ticket would be thirty bucks, just thirty and two zeros, no fees, no service charges. Louie, I love you. You’re a true man of the people. He cuts out middle man and gets to the bare bones of production to access his fans and essentially work out new material in front of them. Granted, those lucky enough to score tickets may have just been the people who were the closest to their phones and a decent wifi connection, but the unadvertised “word of mouth” announcement spread like wild fire and by four o’clock Thursday every show was sold the fuck out. It was over before my friend who named his dog “Louie” even got my text, and apparently over before this desperate girlfriend even had a chance. I came away with a pair because I was willing to risk purchasing them on my phone while driving, lucky me, I’m still alive and didn’t get a ticket, which in turn set up a total one night comedy and music fest, perfectly curated by yours truly. So here’s a twofer review coming atcha!

After aggressively hunting down a Davis Square parking spot like it an exotic animal on the verge of extinction, I made my way into the Somerville theatre and found my seat. I was sitting next to a guy who just scored his ticket by chance at the box office and upon him telling me this I immediately tried to trade him my printed paper ticket for his actual ticket “Louie C.K.” ticket stub thinking that this would be such a rarified moment I should try to procure some sort of memorabilia. After some really lame geeky exchange about how I collect ticket stubs, he offered me his St. Lucia ticket from the show he recently went to. (Check out review of that here). No, I don’t collect other people’s ticket stubs of events I didn’t go to, that would just be ridiculous.

Louie killed it; he truly is a master at his craft. Not that I am any sort of expert in knowing what makes a great comedy set, but when I left the show my cheeks hurt. I’ve gone to other comedy shows, but never have my cheeks hurt this intensely. This was from them being stuck in a weird laugh position and Louie’s relentless punchline approach and subtle-demeanor jokes didn’t give them a break for over an hour. “Are my cheeks out of shape? Was that real?” I was asking myself the tough questions after the show. If excellence of a show is measured by cheek pain, I’ve set a new bar for myself. It’s an indicator of mastery of comedy, and the consequence of seeing a local Newton, Massachusetts kid turned comic legend.

The show was an intimate affair with Louie mixing in all new material, and literally scrolling through ideas in his detective’s notebook. Some of them tanked, some were so dark and that I found myself awkwardly laughing alone to them, and then he fingered an imaginary rat. All in all, Louie’s set, the first of four to come, reminded you of the hard work and dedication to a craft, and all of its ugly and twisted and creative and grueling ways.

I guess this is what draws me to any artist, whether it’s a comedian or musician. The “realness” and work ethic in which Louie has dedicated himself too makes him less of a happy-go-lucky funny guy and more of Malcolm Gladwell ten thousand hour zen-master of his craft, an expert on all things funny; voices, characters, dark-observations, humility, brutal honesty, and most noticeable of all, self-deprecation.

Much of the same could be said for the also somewhat local folk-rock band the Barr Brothers at least in terms of their dedication and musical journey. They began as improvisational art-jam rock the Slip, and I fondly remember getting into Angels Come on Time in the 2002 and penning them not just another jamband who was capitalizing on the first post-Phish hiatus. Nonetheless, my tastes evolved and apparently so did theirs, as the Barr Brothers are a humble tribute to traditional Americana and blues played against the majestical sounds of Sarah Page’s harp.

So needless to say after I left the Somerville theatre I was excited to make my way over to the Sinclair.  I again became a parking predator only now looking for elusive Harvard Square spot. After some keen hunting and patience, I was able to find a spot right across the street from the club and rolled in at right about show time.

As much as Sarah Page’s craft of the harp defines the folk-blues band’s first two studio releases, all six members of the band are responsible for delivering and elevating the material in the live setting. As much as listening to Sleeping Operater may be an ambient coffee shop-esque listening affair, the live show is full on spectacle and lesson in reinventing yourself.

Aesthetically, the Barr Brothers stage was packed with glowing instruments. They opened in a traditional folk trio formation lead by lead singer front-man Brad Barr. His voice presented itself in a warm almost spoken word way reminiscent of a Mark Knopfler type. Beginning the show in this super simplistic way was inviting and by the time the full band kicked in on “Little Lover” we knew we were in for a treat. This is where there is something to be said about the dedication it takes to know how to mix in so many different types of eclectic instruments and bring out a full encompassing sound. Whether it was the harp, harmonica, or hand claps, everything in the mix had its space and never felt over crowded.

“Come in the Water” was the highlight of the night with a scorching guitar solo that once again showed off the veteran musicianship of the elder brother and the ability of the band to elevate a great studio song to another level. The beautiful instrumental “Static Ophans” segue-wayed perfectly into the stand out single “Love Ain’t Enough” and before you knew it they had this crowd in the palm of their hands. Even when I expected there to be some slower, folkier, sleepier numbers the six piece band managed to make them interesting in their ability to capture every nuance and sound produced. “Born Half Crazy” is a bluesy rocker that got everyone swaying like a dirty swampy blues joint in the deep South.

I didn’t think it could be done but at the end of this show I had almost completely forgot the fact that I had just seen the current king of stand-up comedy less than three hours before. That was until the imagery of Louie fingering the rat again popped into my head.