Beane
Beane is very vulnerable onstage. Speaking about going through the TV music competition system and his family, he really used a lot of his time talking. He could have let his songs do the talking a little more, but relationship-building with the audience is important too, and it seemed like it did him good. Some of us are sharers.
Honesty was nice.
“My June” is dedicated to his grandmother and the women in his life; it was more upbeat than I expected. I’ll look to stream it on Friday when it comes out.
He wants us to dance to “Bitter.” He ditches his guitar, and if that was planned, well, that’s just karaoke.
“What a Wonderful World” done acapella is pretty special. He’s got a beautiful voice, and he’s easy to root for. I think he won over a few new fans tonight.
Tiny Habits
My soul is soothed from the start of this show. I began my day catching up on the latest in AI news, and the news is bleak. The future is always unavoidable; AI in music is inevitable. But three humans melding their souls in tender, imperfectly perfect harmony—computers can’t do that. There is hope.
“Mudroom” is an early highlight. I think I might end up listening to this song until the day I die. That’s an early prediction. (I’m listening to it while editing this review currently, so while it’s a histrionic thing to say, so far I’m on track)
The bass player sings along mic-less; he has great red hair that catches the light like Bob Ross is holding down your low end. The earth tones on the uncluttered stage are warm and welcoming. A perfect match for the vibe.
I just want to sit in a theatre playing the movie of how these beautiful souls met. From banter, I guess it was college; still, I’d pay to see it. Because the essence of Tiny Habits is unrestrained, eyes-closed, balletic, delicate harmony. These three people have harmony usually reserved for family. Maybe because they are family. They genuinely seem like it; they smile at each other and hug and look like they feel so safe. Make that movie!
This extends to the crowd as well; the musicians in the audience, I think, are higher per capita than most. The sing-alongs sound amazing and full, connected to the songs and the evening.
A “What Was I Made For” cover is absolutely breathtaking. An incredible take. The key change hurt my feelings. Don’t get this old chunk of coal misty around the eye corners, okay?
“April 23rd” wishes come out. I can’t wait to hear it again. For now, there is a splendid live version; I get to relive this and…
They usher the band offstage for a few songs. You would think that would be an energy killer. But it’s not for this trio. It just pushes them closer together. The OGs. That, in turn, pulls us closer to them.
“Come back to Boston” is awesome. It’s going in my yacht rock playlists immediately. It’s like Christopher Cross meets Tracy Chapman. You want folk rock? You want yacht rock? You don’t get either; you get something new. You get Tiny Habits; take it and like it!
The fake encore was interesting. I like how they lightly poke fun at the construct. We know they are coming back out. Why do we keep doing these silly things? Well, it breaks a show up. People almost need it, or they don’t feel satisfied. This old chunk of coal still bought into it.
One of the band members commented that their most-known songs hadn’t been played yet. I didn’t notice. Because probably unlike everyone else, I only knew them from the strength of their backing up of Lizzie McAlpine for her Tiny Desk concert. All of the original songs they did were perfect—just as good as the covers that they sprinkled in.
This band is perfect. Let me tell you, I loved this show. Whenever I feel weird about the future of music and what technology and corporate greed are doing to our artists, I will remember this show. And I’ll listen to “Mudroom,” “Wishes,” or whatever they release later.
Keep hope alive, Tiny Habits. 9/10
Review – Mike Rogers
Photos – Daphne Miller
