Chomping at the bit to cover my first show for Allston Pudding, thumb no rx I stepped through the Sinclair doors almost a full hour before the openers took the stage and three before headliners, illness The Ballroom Thieves. And inside was an uncanny semblance to a typical post-prom party. Two by two awkward couples were posted up against the wall, on the stairs, at the bar, slowly milking alcohol for all its social lubricant clout. The Sinclair, an intimate venue with limited floor space and rafters is dutifully equipped with three bars. So it was just us: the first-daters eschewing eye contact and yelling to combat the raucous Frightened Rabbit playlist, the die hard fans of all ages—college roommates and parents—the latter howling at their selfie miscues, and me: the over-eager over-whelmed under-prepared creep with a pencil and paper lurking in the shadow. But like every illusory post-prom party, things took a turn. The clock struck 9:00, magic ensued, and we had ourselves a happy ending……
The first opener, Caroline Rose, quickly appealed to the amassing crowd. Rose seamlessly (and shamelessly) embraces the Burlington, VT archetype. It’s in her fern-printed pick guard and her enamoring DIY preach. It’s in her hemp bracelet cornucopia and her matted brown hair. What did it in for me, though, were her mismatched socks. A page out of my own book. Despite her counterpart bailing, Rose soldiered on solo, opting to play some rather “intimate tunes” for us listeners.
She indeed played a few melancholic, albeit beautiful and weathered, songs including “October Road” that sort of entranced the crowd into a swaying silence. Recognizing this, in true folk form, she told some anecdotes. My favorite of which involved her inadvertent insobriety just hours before the show, although, in untrue folk form Rose claimed she came around before she took to the stage. Before she wrapped up a short set with “America Religious” off her new self-mixed and produced album of the same title, she shared some especially fitting insight. Smiling nefariously and tuning her guitar, Rose said she lives by her “own doctrine of freedom,” a progressive sentiment all too reminiscent of the venue’s namesake. Finally ready, she strummed the now high-tempo opening licks of America Religious as the crowd hooted in unison, really succumbing to that strange alchemy of the spirit.
The scene had transformed at this point. The first-daters had made friends and clustered, the parents were taking pictures of the stage instead of close-up nose shots, the floor and rafters were filled. It had become more of a warm after hour house party, accentuated by the red solo cups of sangria and PBR making the rounds. At around ten, Tales of Olde took the stage. They are a seven-piece band comprised of Lucas the frontman and guitarist, two on the bass, a violinist, a drummer, keys, and a backup vocalist. Boston natives, they were glad to “call this place our home,” which got an uproarious applaud from their old(e) time college pals standing behind my photographer and me. The band depth was more distracting than impressive, drowning out Lucas’s lyrics and making Capen, the backup, entirely obsolete. The crowd was listening but not dancing, even after insistence from the stage.
They have a Mumford and Sons like quality that by association turned me off, but they are unquestionably talented. This, however, was not apparent until their final song, Jackson, a Johnny and June cover where they allocated solos for each of the seven musicians so we could genuinely hear them. They are a band with great potential, but if they keep shooting themselves in the foot, it might be only their loyal college roommates who are in the know.
We waited anxiously for 25 minutes until the room blackened. It was a big night for the Ballroom Thieves, as their new self-titled EP, a project Devin told me was “a culmination of two years of hard work,” was set to drop here in Boston, their home base. This is a highly anticipated follow-up to their first five song EP, The Devil & The Deep that came out in 2012. The latest EP also marks Calin Peters’ debut after replacing former cellist, Rachel Gawell. So when the room blackened after these long awaited 25 minutes, there were a lot of reasons to be excited.
The lights came on and the band was in place. There are only three of them and I couldn’t have been more content following that encumbered 7-piece ordeal in the act prior. Devin Mauch mans a small kit with prominent kick drum and bells strapped to his leg, Martin Early is centered with his guitar and vocals, and Calin wields her cello on our right. And when those lights came on, they hit the ground running, playing “Down by the River,” the rocking first tune of their new EP. Leeching off the energy from the foot-stomping crowd—roommates, parents, dates and all—the Ballroom Thieves played straight into “Droves.” This had all three members singing and sweating—implicitly inciting the crowd to also sing and sweat along. The non-diehards too were involved, swinging with their quasi prom dates in hand. The song came to a close and Martin picked up a tray with three stiff whiskeys, handing one to each of his mates. We raised our glasses, solo cups and cans congruously in honor of the new album and a humbling crowd.
The Ballroom thieves work the three-piece deal perfectly. They play a rowdy show, I mean Devin is one shoe size from kicking right through his drum, but they manage to do it so homogeneously like it’s all they’ve ever known. They are all so transparently happy and appreciative to be playing that it’s infectious and you’d seriously have to battle similar feelings to dislike the performance. The crowd feels distinct and important, as if it’s a house show and the Ballroom Thieves are good friends performing for our ears only. Devin even stands high above his kit, mid-song to conduct everyone in a “Ooh oh, let’s get out of here” chorus, which is received by a heavy handed applause. They played ten songs in their first set before walking backstage with shouts of “One more song!” echoing throughout. They responded, almost immediately, before playing a memorable encore.
They played two more songs, capping off a decidedly great night. For the second, the band climbed off the stage, bushwhacked their way into the center of the floor and played a soft, all-acoustic version of “Save Me,” wholly driving home a looming family-affair kind of vibe. All told it was another fun Carpe Noctem event at the Sinclair—a good mixed crowd, chock-full of brazen dancing and cheering. It was a night where we all gladly experienced life under Caroline Rose’s doctrine of freedom.
