Owen, Slingshot Dakota and The Lighthouse and the Whaler @ The Church.

Text by Ed Newton. Images by Abigail Reimold.

Scattered bodies filled the interior of the First Unitarian Church basement last night for the Owen show.

The dim lighting exposed your friends for the night. They lined the walls and awkwardly huddled around your first performers of the night. At floor level, a drum kit faced a modest keyboard rig. Two-piece outfit of Carly Commando and Tom Patterson, also known as Slingshot Dakota (right), is quite infamous in this scene for their uplifting brand of keyboard-driven punk. In between delivering their songs of shining positivity, the two affirmed that this is a venue free of judgment, encouraging those who wished to dance to come forward. Their positivity created a pleasant atmosphere for the next performer, Ohio’s The Lighthouse and the Whaler.

Through a perpetual reassignment of instruments that seemed to last for the entirety of their set, the band confidently displayed their indie-folk-pop sound for the room to hear. Exuding vocal harmonies and runs in a fashion similar to the Local Natives, the versatility and musicianship of each member was somewhat remarkable. As the band’s time finished, they exited the stage. The crowd’s chatter began but concluded when Mike Kinsella approached the stage.

Kenzinger in hand, Owen took his seat and fumbled his Sharpie-painted acoustic guitar.

“My name is Mike,” he said. “My band’s called Owen. How are you doing?”

“Is that rhetoric?” someone shot back at him.

After establishing that he will be the one making the jokes tonight, he went into New Leaves’ “A Trenchant Critique” followed by “Bag of Bones.” In between each song, he sipped his beer and exchanged banter. Wooing the crowd with his charm and sarcasm, Kinsella established intimacy between himself and his captive audience. With each guitar pluck and accidental improvisation, one couldn’t help but connect to his imperfections and humanity.

From the first chord to the last, Kinsella built up his relatable nature through messages of nostalgia, alcoholism and human infatuation.

“I know you just couldn’t afford to see Lucero,” he remarked, speaking of the show across town.

He closed with “Good Friends, Bad Habits,” a picture perfect ending to truly moving performance.