By Zandra Ruiz
Laura Stevenson doesn’t look like someone who would command the attention of an entire room, much less a basement packed to the brim with sweaty college kids. That’s exactly what she did, though- held our focus, played with it, kept us rapt and on the toes of our dirty sneakers.
I shouldn’t be shocked. It’s no surprise that she’s talented, but to actually hear her voice in person blew me away. She’s incomparable to any singer-songwriter I know of. Who else holds such tenuous notes, weaves through delicate structures, and manages to be both strong and gentle at the same time?
I don’t have an apt adjective to describe her. She played with the Cans, a full band including a trombone and trumpet, and was still able to be distinct. Although she played mostly new songs (a few favorites include “Mouthbreather” and “Halloween”), she kept, at all times, our attention.
When she closed with “Beets Untitled,” I expected the entire room to sing with her, but they kept silent. Her notes were clear and always heartbreaking, always honest, and it was then that I knew that no one would dare to take that beauty away. I mouthed the words to myself, my ears greedy, never wanting her set to end and knowing all the while that it had to. Part of why it was so beautiful was that it was fleeting, just like the twists and turns of her voice, or the world of sound from her band.
Laura Stevenson performs on April 17 at Silent Barn in Brooklyn, NJ with The Candle, The Book and the Bell (from Austin, TX), and Freddy Fuddpucker (from New Zealand) and May 1 at Coco 66 with Airwaves, Kate Ferenz, and Bad Credit No Credit.
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