REVIEW: Noah and Abby Gundersen dazzle in a “probably haunted” Lark Hall
10/18/2024 at Lark Hall, Albany
“Two things converged on Friday night: one of the most underrated songwriters of our generation and one of the most stunning venues in the Capital Region. If you’ve yet to experience either one in the flesh, you should remedy that immediately.”
Ten years ago, Seattle-based songwriter Noah Gundersen came out of nowhere with sophomore album, Ledges. I remember it well – at the end of the year, it showed up on a number of “Best Of” lists and for that fact alone, I had to check it out.
There were two things that struck me most about the record: first and foremost, Noah’s voice was a force to be reckoned with. The way he was able to effortlessly move from a hushed whisper to a confident roar was chill-inducing. The second thing that struck me was the potential. Sure, the songs were great, but what they really made you think was, “I can’t wait to hear what’s next.”
Somehow, despite his work getting better and better with age as expected, he’s remained a relatively under-the-radar artist. Musically, most of his songs have massive mainstream potential, whether it be in the form of film soundtracks or radio broadcasts. It’s on the lyrical side of things where he strays from this path. Not one to shy away from tougher subjects like suicide or drugs and alcohol, Noah’s blunt approach to poetry has probably been a factor in not dominating the airwaves. But it’s also what’s set him apart. On Friday night, we were reminded why.
When both Gundersens – Noah and his sister/frequent collaborator, Abby – walked onto Lark Hall’s stage, the room became dead silent while they began Ledges opener, “Poor Man’s Son”. It’s a largely acapella song, with the siblings singing in constant, faultless harmony as only blood relatives could. From the first note, Noah’s dynamic voice filled the cavernous room, and in between phrases, you could hear a pin drop. Perhaps even, as was the case later in the set, a car alarm sounding from a nearby street. In spite of this interruption – which brought a welcome smirk to Noah’s face mid-lyric – Lark Hall was the perfect setting for such a performance.
The bulk of their 90-minute set was dedicated to performing the aforementioned Ledges in full; this current intimate tour was, after all, routed to celebrate its tenth anniversary. That record not only holds a special place in his fans’ hearts, but his as well.
“There’s a lot of self-importance in all of this and, ultimately, this is just some record that some kid made. But to that kid, this record felt like his whole world,” he notes in the tour’s press release. You could almost feel this sentiment emanating from the stage throughout the performance.
Despite the theme of the night, the vibe was admittedly less celebratory and more reflective. There weren’t many singalongs, however there were plenty of awestruck audience members. The whole thing was rather VH1 Storytellers, though Noah rarely spoke between songs, and only even introduced a couple. Regardless, he displayed a dry sense of humor a few times, like when he referred to the audience members up in the balcony as Statler and Waldorf from The Muppets.
This lack of banter may have been for a very relatable reason. “This is a song about social anxiety, which I’m kind of feeling right now,” he said in earnest, mid-set. Whaddya know — talented musicians: they’re just like us.
Hearing Ledges in its entirety – though not in order, notably – was certainly a treat. But, as if to prove just how far his songwriting has come in the last ten years, he included two newer songs which were a particular treat. 2021’s “Atlantis” featured Abby taking on Phoebe Bridgers’ guest vocal parts, and lines like “If I was a painter, if I was brave / I'd hang up a canvas and give it a name / I'd call it the future and just leave it blank / Get high off the fumes and die in the paint…” were cutting and poignant.
Then, there was last year’s “Better Days,” the single most emotional moment of the night. As someone who waxes and wanes across the sliding mental health scale, this song punched me right in the gut. I’m not ashamed to admit my eyes started welling up, and I think it’s safe to say there was a particular resonance in it for Noah, who at one point looked as I was feeling. The chorus of “Sometimes it feels like I'm stretched too thin / How does anyone win in this race that we're in? / Sometimes the going gets pretty rough / But I’m not giving up on better days…” was belted into Lark Hall like it was Noah’s last will and testament.
“Better Days” rightfully closed his set to a standing ovation, only to see him return a few minutes later to play a final, unreleased song alone. Throughout the night, he had quipped a few times about how haunted the venue must be, and therefore dedicated this new, untitled song to the ghost which, the bartender yelled, was named “Gertrude”. Delightful.
Two things converged on Friday night: one of the most underrated songwriters of our generation and one of the most stunning venues in the Capital Region. If you’ve yet to experience either one in the flesh, you should remedy that immediately.
