Photos by Sayesha Chaudhary
Entering the Troubadour, the venue’s folk and alternative rock legacy drips from its walls — almost literally. Peeling posters of past acts, from the likes of Stevie Nicks to Joni Mitchell to Fiona Apple, cover the entrance walls, giving way to an intimate and energetic theater. Two staircases snake from the stage, one up to the artist’s greenroom and another to orchestra seating for family and friends. The interior is entirely paneled by old wood and decorated with an eclectic collection of instruments and memorabilia. Three busy bars are scattered throughout: one at the doorway, another in the back of the theater, and a third on the second floor, looking out over Santa Monica Boulevard. It gives the impression of a local pub built over a Western saloon, demanding both reverence and a good time.
Audience members wait, practically spilling over the lip of the stage, and as I settle myself into place before the concert begins, I notice the simple touches Jarosz has added to personalize the space. Glass vases with flowers and flickering candles sit at every corner of the stage, creeping vines twist around the microphone stands, and a tapestry of polaroids, a nod to Jarosz’s most recent album Polaroid Lovers, hangs in the background. It feels as if Jarosz is trying to carve a place for herself within the Troubadour’s rich legacy, and with her performance, she does just that.
As the openers, Martin Earley and Calin Peters of the Ballroom Thieves, come traipsing down the staircase and into the spotlight, the auditorium transforms into a conversation pit. In between each song, they share details about their tour thus far and chat with audience members. Someone hollers from the balcony. Another responds from stage left.
“It’s a perfect time for a first date,” jokes Earley, and it’s true. The couple’s chemistry on stage is palpable, and their harmonies elevate even the most simple lyrics about almond trees on the I5 and getting a parking ticket in Oregon to an entirely new level of romanticism. But, the star of the show is Peters’ sleek black cello, which she maneuvers like another limb. Spinning, twirling, and dipping it to the beat of the music, Peters emanates a passion and attitude perfect for an opening performance; with every bow of the strings, the audience members seem to reach an even higher peak of adrenaline and exhilaration.
As Earley and Peters take a final bow, hand-in-hand, and the opening notes of Jarosz’s “Jealous Moon” start to play, the excitement in the room crescendos. As soon as Jarosz begins, plucking away at her guitar, it is clear she is a musical force to be reckoned with. The Grammy-nominated artist started singing at the age of two, learned to play the mandolin at ten, and picked up banjo and guitar by the time she was in high school. And leaping between songs from her new album like “When The Lights Go Out” and “Columbus and 89th,” Jarosz and her band display this powerful musicianship and energy, reminiscent of the 80s rock bands that once played the same stage. Her bassist, Daniel Kimbro, wears a Shania Twain t-shirt that feels perfectly fit for their musical genre, a raucous mix of country and folk.
Once the first set of songs finishes, Jarosz declares, “It’s banjo time,” and swings her flower-strapped banjo over her shoulder. “Even Beyonce is doing it,” she adds, as she wades into the more twangy side of her discography. With narrative verve and an infectious rhythm, Jarosz delivers “Annabelle Lee” like a campfire story at a hoe-down, then leans into a softer, more vulnerable sound, as she transitions into music from her 2021 album Blue Heron Suite.
Her band leaves to give Jarosz center stage, as she shares the experiences that inspired the album. In 2017, Jarosz’s mother was diagnosed with breast cancer, and Jarosz uses the album as both a tribute and a catharsis; the blue heron, she shares, is a symbol of resilience and good luck ahead.
As a show of support, audience members yell out all the far places they have traveled from to see her: San Diego, New Hampshire, and even Maine. The moment is short but speaks volumes to the intense connection that Jarosz builds through her storytelling and music.
This intimacy, coupled with her expert control of her voice and her instruments, makes her performance unforgettable, and as I exit the Troubadour, back onto the streets of Los Angeles, I feel a sudden excitement at seeing yet another folk star make her mark on these hallowed halls.
