On a showery day in June after my first year of college, I ventured to Lincoln Park in my beloved Subaru for a Leith Ross concert. Accompanying me were Jayden and Lizzy, my loyal concert buddies who share my love for soft folk music and life-altering concerts.
Reunited after nearly a year apart, we had endless updates to share with each other, and the drive to Chicago was colored brightly with uncontrollable laughter and silly anecdotes.
Upon arriving in Lincoln Park, we treated ourselves to bagels and settled ourselves outside Lincoln Hall to camp for the concert. Looking back, I commend myself and my friends for our ability to sit atop concrete in any and all weather conditions for hours on end.
I prefer to imagine that it was our love for music that empowered our souls and bodies to sustain 95 degree weather and pouring rain on multiple occasions.
Luckily, that day was pleasant enough. To pass the time in line, we chatted and played Uno with kind fans who were complete strangers just five minutes ago.
I still keep up with many of the lovely people I met in line for this concert and cherish these chance connections dearly.
I’ve found that concerts held by queer artists hold immense, beautiful potential for creating a harbor of affirming people and safe spaces. In turbulent times, this potential for connection and security is as important as ever, as it is something no policy or malicious individual can take away.
Minutes before the venue started allowing entry, we watched a splendid sun shower unfold before us. Sunlight offset by raindrops graced the faces of my friends and myself and prompted giggles and smiles from the line of eager fans.
When the time came to enter Lincoln Hall, my friends and I claimed our spot, cozy with the stage, and listened keenly to the seraphic voices of Kevin Atwater and tofusmell, the most wonderful openers.
At last, Ross came to the stage and captivated the crowd with their soft vocals and poetic lyricism. With each song, I felt as if I were taken through the shiny, guttingly-honest storybook of their life.
After their first track, Ross announced that the show was going to be acoustic, as their drummer was graduating from college that day. The resulting gentleness felt unbelievably special and graced the show with a tender intimacy.
Despite the “lack” of percussion, Ross’s stage came alive with compelling instruments, from banjos to mandolins to glockenspiels. The jolly affection between Ross and their bandmates set a lighthearted, joyful tone for the show. It felt like we were all a big group of friends.
Though each song on the setlist dazzled me and my friends, there were a few that touched my heart with extra care.The song I remember with the most detail from this night is undoubtedly “(You) On My Arm.” For this track, Ross played the banjo, which added a new layer of amusement to this already cheery tune.
Ross expressed a bit of apprehension about playing this track without the drummer but persisted and delivered beyond the highest of expectations. They smiled and danced through the song with their band and it was pure wonder.
After “(You) On My Arm,” hearing “Music Box” live felt like entering a warm fairytale and the instrumentals were just incredible.“Prayer” and “Orlando” were also notable songs of the night, but as I mentioned before, not a single one came close to disappointing.
Jayden, Lizzy and I have a tendency to leave every concert discussing how it was our absolute favorite, but this one still tops the rest for me, two years later. I desperately hope to see Ross perform again in the near future and eagerly await new releases.
If you find yourself intrigued by the delightful Leith Ross, check out their Spotify. They also post a lot of unreleased songs and snippets on their TikTok and Instagram, so those are worth a look.
O’Brien can be reached at obrienml0364@uwec.edu.
