INTERVIEW: SIRSY - Navigating the Seven Seas
All Photos by Kiki Vassilakis
“When a band dedicates itself to original music, it enters into a commitment unlike any other. This choice underscores a certain integrity, but it’s also akin to a tumultuous and at times unhealthy relationship—one that many musicians willingly engage in.”
Can Sirsy still be considered a “local” band? The bittersweet truth of a local act's rising success is that it inevitably forces you to share them with a wider audience—if not the entire country, then at least beyond your hometown.
When a band dedicates itself to original music, it enters into a commitment unlike any other. This choice underscores a certain integrity, but it’s also akin to a tumultuous and at times unhealthy relationship—one that many musicians willingly engage in. They say that without risk, there can be no reward. But would we even call ourselves artists without the scars to prove it?
Sirsy consists of just two members, who are not only musical partners but also life partners. Together, they traverse the country, navigating everything from the intimacy of hotel rooms to improvising salads in hotel bathroom sinks, all while living out of a white van brimming with merchandise, instruments, and the occasional ice cream cone.
I can personally attest that they are just as kind as they seem—not just a façade to lure in fans. Their genuine gratitude for their supporters is one of the first things they mention in conversations. You’ll see.
Melanie Krahmer and Richard Libutti met in a basement in 1999 while auditioning for a disco band. No phrase could better encapsulate the almost violent oscillation that occurs in the highs and lows of rock and roll. Artists will go to great lengths to pursue their dreams, often sacrificing their well-being in the process; this struggle can, paradoxically, serve as a catalyst for creativity—a necessary evil, if you will.
Their tenure with the disco band didn’t last long. Within months, they transitioned into Sirsy, initially as an acoustic duo. The band evolved over the years, turning into a four piece and then back to just two. This second iteration of the duo captured the same vibrant energy they had with a full band, but now it was just the two of them juggling all the responsibilities. Krahmer taught herself to play drums—while standing and singing, no less, piano, (and occasionally tooting a flute). Libutti plays electric guitar with his hands and a bass pedalboard with his feet.
Soon, they’ll be juggling active chainsaws.
Krahmer openly acknowledges the challenges of maintaining a band, a universal struggle in the world of rock and roll. In their case, these challenges are compounded by additional factors.
“[Bandmates] just wanted to have a life outside of the band, and we don’t really have one,” Krahmer says. ”We're a couple. We're married. We’re almost always on the same page. It’s super annoying to be in a band with us. So, I can understand why it was difficult for people.”
Given that the couple has always written their songs and maintains a commitment to performing from their entire catalog, each turnover in bandmates meant training someone new—a process that left little room for creating fresh material. Yet, Krahmer admits that they wish they had reached this realization sooner. But as the saying goes, necessity is the mother of invention.
“We like to think it was a grand design that we had, but it was just shit luck,” Libutti says, humbly.
There’s no luck when it comes to their work ethic, however. It's difficult to find a more dedicated pair than Krahmer and Libutti. Driven by a fierce sense of independence, they have been relentlessly touring and performing across the country for years, all without the backing of a steady manager, agent, or record label. While they have had opportunities to embrace such support, they have chosen to retain complete control over their artistic vision.
To stay true to their commitment to original music, this constant touring is essential—and they fully embrace it. With over 200 shows a year under their belts and tens of thousands of miles traveled, keeping up with them is not easy, but their fans somehow find a way.
Everybody Knows
Over the years the duo has cultivated such a devoted fan base completely organically. They are wildly accessible and when you watch them in action, it’s hard to believe they’re not politicians the way they work a room. It’s all genuine, though. They remember small, personal facts about nearly each person they meet. They ask about the family pet, a random health condition or how the eldest son is doing in college. Folks bring them gifts, offer up spare rooms in their homes, cook them meals and even donate “miles” to their tours via their website. Each time they cross the United States, they return home with more followers, friends and fans.
Their journey is a testament to resilience and the power of human connection. They embody the spirit of independent artistry, relying not just on talent but on the meaningful relationships they've built over time. Their ability to engage with fans has transformed their performances into shared experiences rather than mere concerts. Such authenticity is rare in the music industry today, where everything can often feel transactional.
With Sirsy, nothing is bought or paid for with more than a true smile and a song.
In 2020, when the pandemic hit, other musicians offered live streaming concerts. Sirsy practically had their own television station. Libutti studied tirelessly to train himself on the technology necessary for a quality show. Multiple camera angles, paired audio and even graphic overlays were present each time. The shift to online broadcasting not only kept their spirits alive amidst adversity but also fostered a virtual family for fans who needed that connection just as much.
While it was the darkest of times, their fans were unified by the weekly broadcasts. Folks got to know one another in the comment sections and for just a bit everyone felt less alone.
“They all were chatting with each other every week on the livestream chat,” Melanie recalls. “And so they all felt like they got to know each other. That first year when we started coming back to playing shows, they would plan these meetups, and people
would travel from across the country to meet [folks] they had never met, but had been chatting with online. They became what we call the ‘extended family.’ It created a cool community amongst our fans that I don’t think existed prior.”
Two fans benefitted more from those live streams than others. A fan from DC, who had taken a tour in Vietnam years ago, fell in love with his tour guide and they had a long-distance relationship. When the pandemic hit, they were completely separated with no hope of visiting and an uncertain future for in-person contact. According to Krahmer, they would have their date nights on the Sirsy livestreams. They would send dedications to one another, which Sirsy would play.
“Now we see them at our shows and they're married. It’s kind of cool,” says Libutti with a mix of pride and awe.
“It gets you choked up,” says Krahmer. “We had a lot of really memorable moments during those livestreams with our fans.”
Fans rally around them not only for their music but for their journey, which resonates deeply on a personal level. Their genuine approach fosters loyalty that transcends the typical artist-fan relationship, turning it into something much more profound and impactful. It’s this connection and their heartfelt dedication that truly empowers their music and their message.
Leftover Girl
There’s no denying this was a difficult time for most creatives. Even more trying for someone who’s spouse was also one. Surviving this took a strength that was only built through even more difficult times in their past.
Krahmer has beaten breast cancer. Not once. But twice.
It’s difficult enough for someone who is self-employed to be out of work unexpectedly. There’s no sick leave or paid time off. There’s no real finish line for when you can get back to it. And then the second half of your band can’t work either. And you’re literally fighting for your life. Far too many factors to even consider. Krahmer and Libutti had hoped this was in their rearview mirror. In 2018, just past the seven year, cancer-free mark celebration, they embarked on a tour, only to receive a phone call a few days in from a doctor telling them they would need to turn around. There was some abnormality in a routine check up. Cancer was making an encore.
Heroically, the two fought it once again and after some time Krahmer is now, once again, cancer free. Unfortunately, Krahmer still struggles with the aftermath of two rounds of cancer. She gets chronic bronchitis/laryngitis, and general malaise. You wouldn't know by watching them perform how often she took the stage the same day as a chemo shot, or the same week as an ER visit. Maybe it’s adrenaline. But I think it’s the sheer passion she has for what she does and who she gets to do it with. And it’s inspiring.
Krahmer's battle with cancer is a powerful narrative of strength and tenacity. It’s a stark reminder that behind the artistry are real people with real struggles. Her ability to perform despite such personal battles reveals an inspiring dedication to her craft and her partnership with Libutti. Their story showcases the importance of support systems, creativity, and the human spirit’s unwavering resolve to overcome challenges, making them not just entertainers but role models in perseverance.
Revolution
In a storyline often reserved for romantic comedies, Krahmer and Libutti embarked on career paths that were vastly different from their current lives. Krahmer initially aimed for law school. A graduate of Siena College, she majored in psychology and minored in English, harboring dreams of becoming a “good kind of lawyer” dedicated to helping those without access to legal defense.
“That's what I was going to do,” she reflects. “The more that I learned about the career, the more I learned that that wasn't necessarily always possible. It didn't work like it did in the movies, and I was naïve. I sat for my LSATs, and I had this epiphany in the middle of them and thought, ‘I don't want to do this at all.’ So I walked out on the test, and I totally tanked the exam.”
Meanwhile, Libutti was on a pre-med track as a biology major at RPI, having taken his MCATs.
“It's a funny thing because when you're young, your parents tell you you can be anything that you want,” he says. “You want to be an astronaut, you know? All the things that stereotypical young people want to be. But then when it comes time to go to college, maybe you should pick something that you can get a job [at]. So I felt like music was always a constant in my life, but I got a little bit brainwashed by that education system. I was always a good student, so it seemed weird to not just do something academic, but, you know, music drew me back in.
“I was very fortunate that I met Melanie, because I think I feel that connection. I think if I had not met Melanie, I probably would be some miserable nerdy lab tech.”
How fortunate we all are to witness the talent, kindness, and humor that is Sirsy. Their road stories unfold like a sitcom, like if The Big Bang Theory decided to play music. From health challenges to car troubles, their lives are a continuous adventure that surely deserves an incredible biopic, though their story is still unfolding.
Each year brings more states and miles to their tour, along with new tracks and albums to their discography. And when we’re lucky, they spend a few weeks locally so we can soak up their talent before sending them off again.
Next month, they will perform three consecutive nights at the historic Caffe Lena, having sold out every previous show there. The powers that be insisted on the three-day run—an unimaginable feat for any local act. Despite Krahmer’s modest concerns, it’s likely all three shows will sell out. Her humility endears her to fans, while Libutti brings levity with a quick joke, ensuring things don’t get too emotional. It’s this balance that helps them navigate their close partnership. You might expect more bickering from a duo so frequently on the road together, but you’re going to be disappointed. They are the best of friends, the strongest partners on and off stage, and an inspiration to many both musically and beyond.
Remarkably, they’ve also managed to create new music. Their song “Little Phoenix” will debut at Caffe Lena, followed shortly by the release of “Stupid Little Heart,” a poignant tribute to Melanie’s father, who is struggling with dementia.
Just when you think they might be too good to be true, they share sentiments like their lack of desire to be 'rich and famous.' Their genuine goal is for anyone who hears their music to leave feeling a little better than before, believing that their songs can positively impact people’s lives in some way. That’s what truly matters to them.
Besides, why be rich and famous when you can be Rich and Melanie?
(I had to. If you knew them, you’d understand.)
Make sure you catch them at their three day run at Caffe Lena December 6,7, and 8! For more info and tickets click here.