Matthew and the Atlas Brings Undeniable Beauty and Peace to 7th Street Entry
I'm not sure what's going on in the world, but it has been a rough couple of days for me, and Tuesday found me near my breaking point. I was exhausted and stressed by the time I left my day job, and truthfully, the last thing I wanted to do was leave the house to cover two shows downtown. Don't get me wrong, this whole nightly concert-going thing is still far from a job because, let's be honest, it's like living a dream, but on Tuesday night, I just wanted to curl up on the couch and have a night alone. I didn't want to be in a crowd, I didn't want to feel music thumping through my body. I wanted to be alone and in silence. Silence isn't good for me. Although that's what I wanted, it's not a good look for my mental health, so I sucked it up and headed downtown. I didn't know what to expect from either show, being that I only knew one of the five acts performing between the two rooms, but I know I didn't expect what I got from the 7th Street Entry show.
The light night at The Entry started with Foreign Fields from Wisconsin. From all that I can find online, Foreign Fields is a duo, but on Tuesday night, the audience was treated to a trio performance. I was intrigued but also not expecting much as the three men took the intimate stage and created a little half-circle in the middle of it. No offense to them, but I was drained, and folksy acoustic music was just not going to cut it for my night, but that's when they started playing. There was a smoothness to their folk sound, but there was also something slightly other-worldly about it. Typically, when I use that phrase, I mean electronic sounds hitting me left and right, but that's not the case here. This was straight-up folk music, but it sounded the way the stars look. It was airy and bright but deep and vast. It was everything I didn't know I needed on Tuesday night.
There was something so understated about Foreign Fields' performance. The three men on stage just got up there, did their thing, and left as if they hadn't just put me on the edge of a complete mental breakdown by giving me a chance in my day to just breathe and be lost in sound. That humble and almost oblivious energy was the cherry on top of their set. I wish I could expand on this and tell you more about this band, but truthfully, this set, like the one to follow, just spoke to my soul to the point where my brain shut off. I didn't have the wherewithal to take notes and, honestly, don't remember any songs in particular or anything more to point out, but I feel like that speaks louder than me fumbling around more words to describe this band.
Matthew and the Atlas was the only other act to perform on Tuesday night at the 7th Street Entry, but he was more than enough to fill out the rest of the night. Like the music of Foreign Fields, Matt Hegarty instantly had me lost in his world and my own head, but without any real thoughts floating around. Although just one man, a guitar, and a vocal microphone, Matt created this lush soundscape that washed over me like a crashing wave. Don't get me wrong, there was definitely an obvious sense of power that radiated from this man and his guitar, but overall, it was a quiet set, so I'm not sure why it felt like I was getting hit by a giant wave, but why question a good thing?
Have you ever heard of William Elliot Whitmore? He's a singer-songwriter from the Midwest who has one of the coolest voices I've ever heard. It's deep and dark-- not the kind of voice you would expect when you see William in person. That was the vibe I got from Matt. Although he seemed like your typical folksy kinda guy, there was such a booming darkness behind his voice, and I loved the way it stood out in certain songs. In other songs, there was a slight hint of sunshine behind his words, but he never shook that depth that screamed darkness and vulnerability.
Before Matthew performed his 2024 song, "Blackwater Valley," he told the captivated audience a little bit about the background of this song. He explained that when he gets home from tour, he always drives through Blackwater Valley and has a slight existential crisis. Okay, those are my words, not his, but he explained that, as he drove through Blackwater Valley, he would start to question if it was all worth it. If being away from his family and his friends for these long stretches of time were really worth it. Something about the words he chose during this brief talk hit me like a truck. Out of nowhere, I felt myself choking back tears because, in the back of my head, I was wondering the same thing. Were all of these late-night and perpetually exhausted days worth it? Was I losing my friends because I couldn't find the time for them, and when I finally did, I was so checked out and exhausted that it was like I wasn't even there anyway? This song, in particular, spoke to me, but when it finally came to a close and looked back on what this song was about, all I wanted to do was give Matthew a hug and say, "Yes-- it is all worth it" because truthfully my Tuesday would have been a lot crappier without him in it.
I walked into the 7th Street Entry on Tuesday night with no expectations and left feeling honored that I was in the presence of both Foreign Fields and Matthew and the Atlas, if only for a short amount of time.