circleaxahatchee’s fifth album, Saint Cloud, was released on March 27th, 2020, and emerged into a changed world. Having made a name for herself with crunchy indie rock, Katie Crutchfield here draws on the country music of her youth in Alabama and the storytelling Americana of Lucinda Williams, an influence in her formative years. It’s a lavishly produced, languid record with a full band, but with live shows banned, it was sorely deprived of what a live show could be.
In April of that year, Trending Tweets Author Jia Tolentino perfectly sums up the experience Crutchfield’s newly expanded fanbase was craving: “Imagine this… standing in a big warm crowd, two songs into this Waxahatchee album live, your friend walks back next to you, hands you a beer, and you say, ‘Thanks, I got the next song,’ while simultaneously taking a sip and continuing to swell :’).”
A select UK audience got to experience something close to that last April, when Crutchfield played two solo shows in East London, focusing on St. Cloud and debuting songs from this year’s follow-up, Tiger’s Blood. The new songs she performed were deeply memorable, with distinctive melodies and phrasing that made them refreshing yet complex, while the recorded versions felt instantly familiar to anyone who’s heard them live.
Instead of pivoting again, Crutchfield refines the St. Cloud sound on Tigers Blood, with lyrics about overcoming our often self-destructive tendencies, the rewarding project of long-term love, and the work of nurturing a life over time. Her gift as a writer is to casually impart hard-earned wisdom, and that feeling resonates throughout Waxahatchee’s long-awaited return to the UK with a full band, as the sextet churns out one potential classic after another.
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For the first few minutes at the Kentish Town Forum, Crutchfield builds tension, singing the opening to 3 Sisters almost a cappella, leaning into long, high notes as drummer Spencer Tweedy (son of Wilco’s Jeff) lays down subtle bass tones. But as Crutchfield’s voice settles in, the band kicks in, creating the effect of water bursting a dam. The setlist largely stays true to the last two albums, soaking in a swell of sound honed and polished on the road, and the vocal harmonies are as beautiful as juice squeezed from an orange, making this the perfect music for sticking your hand out the car window and feeling the breeze on a calm day.
The attention to detail is superb: the high notes of Can’t Do Much have a puppy-puppy yearning, the golden ornamental notes at the end of Hell veer into quintessential Nashville territory, Crimes of the Heart has a smoky ring to it, and the key change of Ruby Falls feels like a godsend. Crutchfield is 35, and her sensitivity to the ups and downs of life in her mid-30s draws a like-minded audience member who sings along on the final song, Fire, transforming it into a quiet anthem about learning to be “wiser, slower, more harmonious.” Life changes are rarely as dramatic as they have been in 2020, but as Crutchfield’s brilliant music suggests, the smaller changes are just as worth paying attention to.
