Gaelynn Lea and James Holt
The Band On The Wall, Manchester
17 May 2025
Manchester is the recipient of sunshine, not rain on a mid-May Saturday. The streets buzz with the clink and chatter of an almost European ambience, as people make the most of the driest stretch of days in many years. The Band On The Wall, however, maintains an inviting darkness despite the change in the weather.
Waiting to be served, I am approached by a small lady in a wheelchair as she glides past potential obstacles with an easy confidence. She smiles, "Are you the support act's father?" Just as I begin to explain that I'm not, the woman beside me announces that she's the mother of James Holt and introduces her husband, the true father sought in the question. Gaelynn Lea, in her motorised chair, immediately scoots across to them. This composer, violinist, and singer I've never seen live, but this almost introduction makes me relish the prospect of the afternoon's performance with an added frisson of anticipation.
The support act, the previously mentioned singer-songwriter James Holt, specialises in confessional, articulate pop maladies. An engagingly relaxed presence, his songcraft is immediately evident. There are shades of Dylan, Emitt Rhodes, and the cohesion of fellow Mancunian troubadour John Bramwell ( I Am Kloot). It's easy to discern why he's garnered admiring plaudits from many, including Brian Eno. The songs are reflective and complex, with sixties sway and swagger, and by his admission, they aren't always the happiest, but therein lies beauty. "The Wedding" fillets his sorrow over a failed love interest who marries another guy, a surprisingly up-tempo affair given the loss attendant in its subject matter. This elicits a playful heckle from Gaelynn, who is perched at the back of the venue, as she berates him for enjoying a good wallow in despair, which he manfully agrees is true. I would recommend his "Sanguine On The Rocks" release to those in search of new aural delights, a treat that will not disappoint, nor indeed will any of his work.
When Gaelynn takes the stage with her guitarist Richard Carter, there's a faint ripple of anticipation. Because of her small stature, she plays her violin like a cello. It is a perfect arrangement, an inspired compromise. Her sound builds via loops and pedals, and with a knowing nod to her accompanist, with whom she shares an eloquent rapport and fluency, the show begins. The songs are unique confections that enter the heart and haunt the soul. At times her voice fuses with the violin, as though it, the instrument, and she are as one. The sound has a gypsy baroque element, neither country or folk but a beguiling hybrid of both with a sense of refined classicism. An enchanting and mesmerising energy pervades. As she performs, an expressive reverie is present in her eyes. There's an element of Cyndi Lauper to her voice, along with the dedicated concentration of an artist in perfect fusion with her evocative creations.
Lea is promoting the music she wrote for Daniel Craig's Broadway portrayal of Macbeth, and introduces these pieces a little apprehensively on account of them being aired out of context, but she needn't have worried. They are beguiling and work above and beyond their initial purpose as incidental motifs to complement a revered drama. Their pathos and musicality become extraordinary. She expresses her disappointment that many of her favourite musical moments were cut from the play, but is grateful that she got to hear them, albeit once, from a Broadway stage, in an empty, darkened theatre.
Her haunting ballad "Some Day We'll Linger In The Sun," written about her husband, a beautiful gesture she only confessed to much later, is one of the afternoon's highlights. At times, I felt tears rise as the music soared and flowed. Later, she even whips the crowd into an audience participation sing-along. All too soon, the magical reverie is over, the moment flown. Her intrinsic artistry is slowly reaping the recognition her diligent efforts deserve. Collaborations with Low have raised the stakes in her favour, as did her Tiny Desk win (video at top) in 2016. Her first visit to the UK in several years, these shows are a timely reminder of her unique gifts. This Manchester gig is the Minnesota natives' first matinee performance, a uniqueness she is happy to experience and embrace.
Afterwards, Gaelynn mingles with her audience for a chat, a captivating soul with an infectious giggle. On the metro, I was deflated to realise her compact discs had slipped out of my not-quite-sealed rucksack. Beyond the initial sense of loss, a faint hope rose that they'd be found by someone who'd take them home and discover moments of grace from my lost tracts of musical delight. Perhaps matinees, though a thing of the past, might have a bright future. A new kind of afternoon delight in Manchester, Minnesota, and beyond.
What a superb revue , totally captures what was a magical concert.