Though he’s usually an honest storyteller, musician Ben Kweller lies sometimes.
After patiently splitting the audience into a three-part harmony for “Family Tree,” he looked contentedly down at the floor at D.C.’s Union Stage. “You guys are fantastic,” he said, though we were hardly in tune.
Commemorating the upcoming release of his seventh studio album, Cover The Mirrors, Kweller is back on the road. A prolific artist with a career spanning over three decades, Kweller ushers in the new while keeping it old school, interspersing his set with oldies such as “Family Tree” from his debut album Sha Sha (2000).
A few songs and one sing-along into his set, we sat in easy adoration of Kweller as he charmed us into laughter. As the singing (and hollering) quieted down, he turned to tourmate Christopher Mintz-Plasse, who plays bass, giving his thoughts on the run-through of the song we’d all just “performed.” It needed a vamp and a breakdown at the end, he said, to really highlight the audience participation.
Mintz-Plasse let the chuckles settle before responding, addressing the audience. “You guys were just in a band practice. I wanna let you know.” Breaking into a very serious conversation, Kweller and Mintz-Plasse spent the next few minutes fleshing out how this vision of an extended live version of “Family Tree” would sound, playing and reworking the ending. Each time, they were accompanied by the full-bodied voices of enthusiasm from the floor.
“Do you wanna be in the band?” Kweller finally asked—a bit trepidatiously, as if he expected us to say no. But then, as if rehearsed, one great, collective “YEAH” punched through the air, full force. Without missing a beat, Kweller confidently pivoted back to his bit. “Alright, we have a gig tomorrow at Bowery Ballroom in New York [City]; load-in’s at 1 p.m.”
Mintz-Plasse provides visual aid of a full circle on “Full Circle.”
It’s a very Kweller-esque thing, this very serious commitment to being unserious. Unlike many an on-stage performer, Kweller’s humor extends beyond crowdwork; the playful quips and goofing around seem almost hardwired into his persona. Mid-song, he’d often suddenly swap his usually warm, steady tone for another, growling like he was playing a metal concert instead of indie rock, or manipulating his voice with enough vocal fry to rival Kurt Cobain or a Kardashian.
Brimming with this youthful energy, Kweller’s humor felt less like calculated crowdwork and more like him being him. Sure, he’d crack a joke or two to fill the space between songs as he toggled between the keyboard and his many guitars—two electrics (one white, one teal) and a couple of tastefully weathered acoustics—but he never gave off the air that he was trying to get us to laugh. He just did.
Still, Kweller’s comedy didn’t diminish from his professionalism as a performer. In fact, it made all the more impressive that he could simultaneously preserve the nostalgia, joy, and heartbreak of his music; in a matter of seconds, he’d switch from throwing up devil-horns to singing “I know lovin’ me’s a slippery slope / But I know lovin’ you’s my only hope / So hold on tight if you can,” flooding the space with his painfully confessional lyricism.
His gum chewing throughout the entire performance further punctuated his effortless candor, embedding the show with an air of nonchalance without fracturing the emotional allure of music. Intimate yet casual all at once, Kweller’s performance never became too serious.
Candid with his multifacetedness, Kweller came alive on stage in a way that sets him apart from other musicians. It isn’t just his authorship that makes him special—though he has the unique ability to write music that feels like seeing an old friend, it’s his palpable love for performance that makes him such a captivating artist. In his nearly two-hour long set, he didn’t stop beaming, not once. It was hard not to smile along with him as we watched him throw himself into each song with an unyielding passion.
When Kweller wasn’t singing, he turned around to face his band. It was almost difficult to keep him standing at the mic; his body seemed to want to move, to be nearer to his bandmates as if they were performing for just themselves and no one else. Shrouded in the strobe lights, he was a blur of curly hair, lost in the music. In that way, Kweller stayed true to his promise that the audience could join the band. We didn’t mind that he’d turn his back to us—it was a sign of familiarity and trust that wrapped us up into his world. We weren’t just spectators, watching from a distance—Kweller truly transported us into band rehearsal, forming one larger musical organism made of audience and performer.
At one point in the set, the rest of the band put down their instruments and walked off stage, leaving Kweller standing center stage in the white spotlight.
“Alright,” he started in a knowing tone. “What do you wanna hear now?”
Kweller, Mintz-Plasse, Ryan Dean (drums) and Parker Twomey (Guitar, Keyboard) quote “Sha Sha” and “Falling” on an unreleased track entitled “Park Harvey Fire Drill.”
Carefully considering the clambering requests of a determined crowd, he performed two impromptu songs, “This is War,” and “American Cigarettes,” two of his bandmates joining in spontaneously. Mintz-Plasse ran on stage halfway through “American Cigarettes,” drink in hand, already singing “Hold on tight if you can,” before he’d even reached the mic. Even in the encore, Kweller took the opinions of his many new bandmates very seriously, giving the audience the choice between “Dollar Store,” a single off his new record, and “Wasted and Ready,” from his first.
“This is the thing, ‘cause you get to choose here,” he said. “I know it’s a hard one, because you could hear something new, or you could hear something comforting that you know.”
Faced with an indecisive audience, he acquiesced: “We could try both,” he finally said. Stretching the show out past the set end time, Kweller once again demonstrated an incredible commitment to both his artistry and his fans. In little moments like this, the musician shows us he cares, thanking us with the sweet attentiveness of a good friend.
Always the jokester, Kweller lightened a bittersweet farewell with a throwback to the first moments of the show.
“I think it was a good rehearsal; you got your parts for tomorrow. 1 p.m. load-in, Bowery Ballroom,” he reminded us, seeing us off with a small wave.
Cover The Mirrors is set to release on Friday, May 30.
