Kevin Morby at the Sinclair, 10/24/22
In the last few words of his set, Kansas-based artist Kevin Morby sings, “when I was a little boy, I wanted to live and breathe inside a song.”
“Well, how about this one?” he asks the audience.
The crowd falls silent—for a beat too long. At that moment, we were living and breathing together, caught in the suspension of music. The control he has over us is palpable, as the intimate quality of his songs pulls the listener in with ease. Morby soon resumes the song, which happens to be “Goodbye to Good Times.” It is the last song of his main set and his recently released album This is a Photograph.
This is a Photograph is Morby’s seventh installment in his indie folk-rock oeuvre. Written primarily during a sojourn in Memphis, Tennessee, the album further explores the themes of death, aging, and the past. Morby began writing after his father collapsed at the dinner table because of a nearly fatal heart attack. He ended up recovering, but it led Morby to inspect his family’s history in the form of photo albums. Morby explores both the physical and spiritual geography of his past, culminating in a nostalgia-fueled collection of songs.
I entered the Sinclair and assumed my position at the edge of the stage, admiring the dozens of white and red roses adoring it. I clung to a few other concert photographers I met while in line, and I listened intently as they shared various camera and venue tips. We fiddled with our cameras and chatted briefly in anticipation of the opener Coco, a band which no one seemed to know anything about.
However, their set was a perfect introduction to Morby’s personal themes. Comprised of Maria Friedman, Oliver Hill, and Dan Molad, Coco is a mix of dreamy lo-fi beats and a groovy indie funk. Their stage presence was intimate and casual, often responding directly to the audience’s praises. They seemed comfortable but also a little shy, as they confessed that “this is only our second stage show, we’re still working on our choreography.” Yet, the progression of songs was solid. Coco continuously plunged us into tranquil dreamscapes, adorning the set with the soft beat of a tambourine and soothing vocals. By the time they said goodbye, the crowd was soothed half to sleep.
Anticipation grew as the floor filled, marked only by the sound of a sorely drunk crowd member pleading for Morby to come out. It was difficult to determine how the crowd might react to Morby’s mostly ambient folk tunes. Would they be uncontrollably enthusiastic, contently swaying, or pondering the inevitability of death and dying? Perhaps all three.
The whole stage suddenly smelled like cigarettes and B.O., so I knew these guys were the real deal. Morby brings passion on stage, forcefully belting the lyrics and hopping around, barely able to contain his energy as he performed the opener “This is a Photograph.” His signature gold tasseled leather jacket was the centerpiece of the stage, flitting around and serving as a reflective beacon for the set lights.
The next five songs were a blur. All from the latest album, they fluctuate between mournful ballads and beach-rock riots. Most notably included was “Bittersweet, TN,” a haunting exchange on the passing of time, punctuated by Alecia Chakour’s vocals. Not to worry, spirits are soon raised with the excitable “Rock Bottom,” which falls somewhere in between the Beach Boys and the Ramones.
Morby’s stage presence borders on the unreal. He cultivates a relationship with the audience so intimate that his performance is more akin to your average house show rather than a sold-out concert. At one point in the show, he included the audience in a vote on what to hear next, “a slow song or fast one?” Another time, he serenaded the Boston crowd with a song he made up on the spot: “I went to the MFA, I saw a girl, G-I-R-L” and so on. I even got a photo of Morby taking a photo of us, which I found ironic—especially since it is his This is a Photograph tour. Despite Morby’s critical acclaim and steadily increasing fame, he never fails to make the audience feel special.
As I stood in line for merch, I chatted with others about what they thought of the show. They seemed to be just as awestruck as I was, describing Morby as the “second coming of [Bob] Dylan.” I fully agree, given that his lyrical poeticism and folk sound are unmatched to anyone else I’ve seen today. The spiritual and mythical quality of his writing also recalls Leonard Cohen and Jim Morrison of the Doors. All in all, Morby is in the footsteps of some big names, but it’s nothing he can’t handle.