Live at The Vaudeville Mews
Words by Jacob Henneman//Illustration by Elliot Kurtz
Ah, the sights and sounds of late October: the leaves billowing about in the wind, the Fall Classic coming to a close, a lady in a pink wig talking to one of Bill Swerski’s Superfans. I found Waldo standing next to a pirate and Superman on 4th and Court Avenue. Jolie Holland, like her songs, needed no costume, no gimmicks. If she were to wear a costume, though, I could see her dressing up as Scarlett O’Hara. The two are unfortunately intertwined. If the two were to sit down for a couple cups of coffee, so many of love’s yarns would be shared that they could probably knit a comfortable sweater. “I wanted to write an album about being single,” Holland announced mid-set. It makes sense, since almost everyone has been single in their lives. Such a broad topic to write about is only achieved successfully through personal experience, and Holland admittedly has had her share.

Although her new album is entitled Springtime Can Kill You, her Loretta Lynn derivatives were just as comfortable riding the gentle autumn breeze along with the red-orange foliage as they are nestled in with the new blooming flowers and feelings of spring. Blending country roots songwriting that blossoms into blues guitar and improvisational jazz percussion backing, her set was one of practiced restraint, with the occasional burst of accentual emotion. Holland was shy at times, her auburn hair slowly crawling over her face leaving just enough space for her sultry voice to breathe out. Although most of the audience was taking advantage of a romantic evening with their significant others, everyone remembered the times of singledom, and what better spokesperson than Holland.

In “Littlest Birds,” Holland quips “The littlest birds sing the prettiest songs.” She proves this to be true. Although modest in stage presence, the warm glow of her voice enveloped the whole venue. Whether she was behind a piano, guitar, or charming box fiddle (which looked like one of those wooden creations sold at Civil War reenactments), she spilled her experiences out over an audience that was ready and willing to lap it up like a kitten before a bowl of warm milk. I found myself wondering if it was selfish for me to hope that she would always be single if only as inspiration for future albums and performances.