REVIEW: Hurray for the Riff Raff Bring a Punk Rock Mystique to Woodstock
06/17 @ Bearsville Theater, Woodstock
Photos by Violet Foulk
“Through a 14-song set and two-song encore, I was entranced by the immaculate performance unfolding on stage.”
On Wednesday, June 17, Hurray for the Riff Raff, with support from Free Range, graced the stage at Bearsville Theater in Woodstock with a discography-spanning performance that was nothing short of immaculate. The following is a stream-of-consciousness retelling of the evening’s events.
Alynda Segarra, who performs under the moniker Hurray for the Riff Raff, has always been a fascinating artist. Perhaps it’s the tattoos and the hair that provide a sort of punk rock mystique. Perhaps it’s the way they write about addiction and life lived on the road that could only have come from lived experiences. They always felt like the Anthony Bourdain of folk music, except, you know, alive. Fuck, this got dark real quick. I really need to abort this train of thought and arrive at the point. What was the point again?
Ahh yes, there it is. People always talk that corny shit about music being a unifying force that can bring people together and blah, blah, blah. But, Segarra’s music genuinely is that kind of force and it’s reflected in the crowd here tonight. We’ve got the tatted-up punks with cutoff T-shirts over here mixing with the long hairs over there. Hell, we’ve even got the straightlaced button-up crowd out for a night on the town. No matter who you are or what you’re into, there’s something to latch onto in Segarra’s songs.
Phew; it was a bit dodgy there for a second, but I think I landed the plane on that metaphor.
This is my second time in this little ‘compound’ surrounding Bearsville Theater where they’ve got a bar (Tinker Street Tavern), a Mexican joint and a Tibetan pho spot (didn’t even know that was a thing), but my first time inside the actual venue, and it is stunning. You enter into a large, windowed foyer that feels like a bar lounge. The walls are decorated with art and televisions so you can enjoy the show from the comfort of a couch if you feel so inclined. Out back, a wooden deck sits above a babbling brook where the punks and long hairs can smoke their inhalant of choice.
Down into the actual theater, you’d be hard pressed to find a spot where you are unable to see the show in this large open space. The only lighting in here comes from four beautiful chandeliers that dot the high wooden ceilings of the converted barn. On stage, all six of the spots shine orange beams on a single chair and microphone in the center.
8:00 on the fucking dot and Sofia Jensen, who performs as Free Range, emerges from the darkness to take their seat, picks up the guitar from its stand and begins their set. After one song, they take a two-minute tuning break and joke about the inefficiency of not bringing a second guitar out on the road. For me, they should just keep it as a bit; it showcases their bashful but endearing personality. The whole set is just Jensen and their guitar, the sparse arrangements allowing the focus to remain firmly on the stories.
After the 40-minute set, Jensen departs and I’m struck by how locked in I was able to remain throughout the entire performance. Typically, during a solo acoustic artist, there are inevitably people who take the opportunity to socialize and it can really distract from the performance. No such thing happened here. Jensen had us all in the palm of their hand even though 80% of us had never heard a single track.
9:10 pm and Hurray for the Riff Raff takes the stage. The band emerges first to spotty applause from the crowd, but the attention is firmly on the stage awaiting Segarra’s arrival. They emerge, the crowd erupts and the next thing I know it’s 10:28 pm and I’ve taken zero notes. Through a 14-song set and two-song encore, I was entranced by the immaculate performance unfolding on stage.
Here are five fun observations and anecdotes from the set:
Hurray for the Riff Raff has a diamond kind of formation happening on stage. Segarra is of course at the front of the diamond flanked by guitarist Parker Grogan on their right and drummer Marcus Drake on their left. Meanwhile bassist Nnamdi Ogbonnaya is lurking in the shadows at the back of the diamond with his hat pulled low. In the most stereotypical bassist move ever, I literally haven’t seen his face once.
Certain musicians have these ticks during their performances. My friend and bandmate Rooftop Park has this thing where he ends every song with “there we go”. It’s funny. Marcus Drake has a thing where every time he counts the band in, it’s always with a loud and vocal “1,2,1,2,3,4”.
Grogan fucking rips. Solos, atmospheric picking, slide guitar. He’s got it all in his arsenal and I’m obsessed.
The only little “mistakes” come from Segarra. They start a couple songs with the tuning pedal still on and have to rush back to get sound; during the encore performance of “Young Blood Blues” they start the song in the wrong key and have to go back for a capo to adjust. Each “mistake” is handled with such grace and humility that it only serves to inject character into the perfection unfolding in front of our eyes.
Standouts are as follows in descending order: 5) “Buffalo” 4) “Pyramid Scheme” 3) “Pa’lante” 2) “Alibi” 1) “RHODODENDRON”
During the final song of the encore, “Pa’lante”, Segarra exits the stage early and allows the band to close things out with a minute-long climactic jam. I always find it endearing when the frontperson and clear draw cedes the spotlight to the supporting players. It’s just a classy move and I’ve got time for it.
I’ve got a lot of thoughts on the nature of live music and the sheer volume of impeccable performances I’ve been fortunate enough to see as of late but I’m at my word count threshold so until next time dear Metroland readers.
