“Hallelujah,” ring out the harmonies, ripe with bluegrass tones. Spirit Family Reunion stands below the massive pulpit at Arlington Street Church; in this old, old building they are calling us back to our roots. To hear a banjo so passionately plucked, a fiddle so fierily bowed, voices - no two on the same note - mixing together with such fervor, and a spoon and washboard wielded so expertly - every element true to traditional form - is a rare and wonderful delight. They fling themselves into “Alright Prayer,” Nick Panken’s sharp vocals leading the charge in the rollicking, foot-stomping tune. Their music all feels very old, but not in a dusty way; rather, in a rawness and purity that grips your soul, forbids you to keep still, and with the power of the Spirit compels you to lose yourself in these joyous, passionate, aged sounds. This is music that will never die, still as vital now as it ever has been, the group assures us of that. Above all, beyond their obvious skill and articulate respect for the tradition of American bluegrass, the greatest asset of this band is how strongly their music compels you to join in. Their slower songs are no exception, the rich tapestry of vocal harmonies inviting anyone and everyone to lift their voice and find their niche in the broad tonal range. Their set runs through exuberant songs as well as more somber pieces - elegant in their sadness - coming to a close with “I’ll Find A Way,” a song that starts with a jaunty pace, members taking turns singing out verses (a pattern that culminates with the drummer crying out a verse above all the rest), then winding down to the lilting refrain, taken up by the entire sanctuary. The final notes ring out, suspended in the sacred air, until they are laid to rest by thorough and well-deserved applause.
Enter Boston-based David Wax Museum. Still very much rooted in old-school Americana, this band nonetheless takes splendidly expressed departures by way of faint references to the folk music of Eastern Europe and more prominent escapades through Mexico’s musical traditions. A bass ukulele, a jarocha guitar, a fiddle and a bari sax, every instrument is another voice - dozens of voices - swelling with the harmonies and calls of the musicians themselves. Swinging into “Beatrice,” something becomes evident in the 3-time and simple man-and-woman harmonies. So many songs are playful and light, ripe with such energy that they give off the impression of music written for children. But there’s a distinct maturity to the sound, despite its buoyant inflections of childhood songs; their performance of the traditional Mexican song “Chuchumbe” reminds me of tapes I listened to all through kindergarten, but the crucifixion reference would hint otherwise. The impression pervades “The Persimmon Tree,” as fiddler Suz Slezak picks up a donkey jawbone and conjures forth an infectious rhythm, melting into a rambunctious rolling frolic of a tune. Proclaiming that they intend to use “as much of this beautiful space as possible,” the group takes to the pulpit for some slower songs, lights filling the capacious alcove with the melting colors of a humble sunset, a perfect setting for the gentle “When You Are Still.” They proceed to take to the aisles, the pews, the stairs, the balcony; in this centuries-old church any sound anywhere is heard everywhere, and we lose and find David Wax and his ebullient comrades through the verses as they go. I’d had trepidations about seeing a show in a church - especially one so rigidly constructed - but the band created an atmosphere that proved the space conducive rather than restrictive toward a flood of kinetics. At their imploring, we flooded the aisles and the spaces before the pews, jumping and dancing and singing along. David Wax Museum could be our closest friends, how sincerely happy they were to see us there; how freely they came and moved about us, strumming and singing all the while. On wind instruments Alec Spiegelman created sounds I was unaware those instruments could produce; his roaring, impassioned clarinet solo had us all dumbfounded at its blazing glory. Like Shakers, we were all taken in a rapturous whirl of singing and playing and dancing; this was the show you never wanted to end. But following the euphoric “Yes Maria Yes,” the set had reached its end. We stomped and cheered, rooting for an encore. David and Suz reemerged, settling at a piano in the corner and inviting us all to “sit, just where you are,” gathered about them in the front of the church. The tender “Lavender Street” swelled in our hearts, then we stood as the band walked through us. “Follow us, come on,” and we did, packing together around them in a small circle, right in the center of the sanctuary.
There is now no doubt in my mind that this show was meant for a church. “Let me rest in the wake of the Lord,” they sang in true and clement harmonies, sincere as a prayer. Beside them, a woman stood with her eyes tight shut, her hands raised in the air before her. We whispered along; we were silent. We stood, we kneeled, we sat about them. We were together in this spirit and for those moments, I am sure, we were one.
-Laura Brubaker
Photo Credit: Laura Brubaker
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