New Yorkers You Should Go Listen To Right Now, This Very Second
Beyond the Algorithm #07
A cellist, a guitarist, and a poet walk into a bar. That sounds like the beginning of a bad joke, but it’s not.
Bandits on the Run describe themselves as “indie-folk-pop-americana outfit,” and I whole-heartedly agree. The terms “multi-hyphenate” and “multi-instrumentalist” do not even begin to describe the sheer power these three wield together. They opened a show in January with a truly startling live performance of their song, “Spellbound,” as if to designed entrap the audience in their rhapsodic snare. You cannot help but stare at this trio as they twist and turn around each other like fates.
As is typical of the local New York music scene, I’d heard about Bandits through a friend of a friend of a coworker. They announced a monthly residency at the Bowery Electric for the entire Spring season. Every second Monday of the month, they grace New York with their invigorating presence, alongside carefully curated opening acts of their choice.
Back in January, I took the 6 train to Bowery Electric and descended the stairs to the basement venue. I stood there, a little too high and quietly drinking a Diet Coke, surrounded by larger groups of fan hopefuls wearing band merchandise and talking quietly about the premature closing of the Broadway production of Swept Away. For those of you who don’t follow Broadway news, Swept Away is the latest example in a long string of unfair closures because no one can afford the operating costs and exorbitant rent of a theater off 42nd Street. (For the record, I saw it in previews, and it was incredible.)
Adrian Enscoe, otherwise known as the guitarist from my bad joke, starred in that production, alongside Broadway favorites Stark Sands and John Gallagher Jr. The classical cellist is his wife, Sydney Shepherd, a powerhouse soprano and actress in her own right. They are joined by their poetic, accordion-wielding alto, Regina Strayhorn, who acts as the band leader of sorts. Her stage presence alone could sell out a stadium tour. Together, the three of them create musical magic.
The show felt like a party. It was a celebration of their hard work and serendipitous, subway busker connection. You couldn’t help but smile along as those three spoke to each other with unbridled admiration and support. Surrounded by their fans, family, and friends, they talked to the audience as if everyone was in on the joke. Giggles and harmonies filled the room. The energy flowed seamlessly, despite hours of standing in cramped quarters. It was a beautiful thing to witness, in its own eccentric way.
Something similar happens anytime I trek to Brooklyn on the L Train for a show.
Brooklynites fill the rooms of Union Pool, Purgatory, Elsewhere, and Baby’s All Right to sway in unison to the music of beloved bands discovered on a random Wednesday night. Old friends and acquaintances run into each other and exchange warm hellos. Strangers bond over their shared appreciation for the music and craft beer. The aura of community is palpable. For me, despite not knowing anyone, there is a familiar current running just beneath the worn-hardwood floors—sort of like, I could know everyone.
Last week, I was fortunate enough to see Brooklyn favorite, h. pruz, open for Maine-based Dead Gowns.
h. pruz is one of those bands that grows on a listener like moss—slowly and patiently. More than once, I found myself leaning in to watch as the four players, Hannah, Felix, Rick, and Elijah, blended their sounds together seamlessly to create something entirely transcendent. The energy between the four of them was noticeably lucid and altogether lovely.
Band chemistry is such an important aspect of the live show experience, especially for local bands looking to grow an audience. Without it, something is fundamentally missing. Both the Bandits and h. pruz occupy this impeccable space.
Though, compared to the Bandits and their boisterous personalities and full-bodied harmonies, h.pruz fills the room with a dreamlike airiness, like being let in on a secret in the wee hours of the morning. Hannah is a remarkable singer, guitar player, and songwriter. At first, their stage presence is quiet and seemingly unassuming. A less-informed person might underestimate them. They would be wrong.
As soon as Pruzinsky begins to pick at the strings of their acoustic guitar, some of the most beautiful, unbelievable sounds emerge. Their characteristic starling voice and bare-faced lyrics follow in quick succession. The room fills with the well-mixed flavors of electric guitar, bass, and stripped down percussion, leaving only the subtlest notes of freshness, wildflowers, and honey crisp apples in their wake.
You lean your back on the bar, eyes and ears drawn to sounds you can’t accurately identify or describe. As they end their set, you turn to your concert companion and whisper, “Well, what did I tell you?”
They agree.
It must be seen to be believed.
There’s more!
Here are a few other New Yorkers you should be listening to—like, right now!
^^^(I cannot get enough of their new song!!)
‘Till next time!
Thanks for reading, and if you have any recommendations, thoughts, or queries, send ‘em my way! I’d love to hear from you!