Sometimes it’s just a quiet moment you remember.
Five songs into the Chatham Rabbits’ moving show at the Avalon Theatre’s Stoltz Listening Room, Austin McCombie sang “Facing 29,” a powerful song about “the last year of our youth.” Like many of Chatham Rabbits’ songs, “Facing 29” was quiet, ruminative, and absolutely compelling. When Austin finished singing, the intimate room was quiet and we could hear his wife and musical partner, Sarah McCombie, look at him and whisper, “sweet.”
Austin and Sarah’s sweet interaction, and their manifest pride in each other’s singing and playing, was at the heart of their performance. One might guess that it would be challenging to be partners in marriage and music (and to run a working farm together!), but the McCombies make it seem easy. Many of their strongest songs, in fact, focus on the strength they draw from one another and from their partnership. That’s especially true of perhaps their most compelling song, “Oxen,” whose chorus calls on listeners to “take strength from the one beside you to pull the weight.” It’s no surprise that Paste Magazine named “Oxen” the “top folk song of 2020” (the year it was released).
Many of Chatham Rabbits’ songs are about their family members. “Old and Blue” remembers Sarah’s paternal grandmother, who had her son, Sarah’s father, when she was 15. The closeness of their ages posed real challenges and provided for special intimacy. Sarah’s voice broke, lovingly, as she sang “How I love my kid, as a mother and a friend/I had to grow up with them.” One of their newer songs, “One Little Orange,” captures Sarah’s only memory of spending time with her maternal grandfather. He died young, after a life-long drug and alcohol addiction, leaving Sarah with only the memory of sharing an orange with him one day. “That one little orange has fed me forever,” Sarah sang to the packed and rapt audience.
Although many of Chatham Rabbit’s songs are on the sad side, it would be misleading to suggest that their show was in any way solemn or downbeat. Sarah found joy in self-deprecation. In “Matador,” she sang about her tendency to keep going when she should know better (“I’ve seen more red flags than a Matador”) and in “Pool Shark” she recounted the story of a night spent drinking in New Orleans, and of a day spent being hung-over and regretful.
Other highlights included “Abigail,” the only song I know about the New Deal era Kentucky Pack House Library Program, which sent women librarians on horseback into the “towns and hollers” of Appalachia, and “Larry,” a new song by Austin exploring the challenge of being more vulnerable.
The simple stage set – just two microphones, Austin’s guitar, and Sarah’s banjo – was a fitting backdrop for an evening of music presented with few frills. It would be easy to underestimate the quality of Chatham Rabbits’ musicianship. The playing is never showy, but it is always interesting. It is by no means a criticism to note that the music is very much in service to the lyrics.
The Chatham Rabbit’s are on tour across North America through May. They are preparing to record a new album; it would be no surprise if it were their commercial breakthrough. The Stoltz Listening Room was full for their show this week; perhaps they will need a bigger venue when they come back to town next time.
Mark Pelavin, the founder of Hambleton Cove Consulting, is a writer, consultant, and music lover living very happily in St. Michaels.
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