Oklahoma in Boston..

John Moreland, folk roots singer based out of Tulsa, Oklahoma shifts slowly to stool at the from of the stage on a Thursday night in Cambridge. I am gripping the slowly warming aluminum of a Narragansett Later in my left hand and the right shoulder of my partner standing in front and to the right of me at the same time with my right. We’ve waited two years for this show. It had been cancelled twice prior due to COVID mandates. You can see it in John’s face, part passion, part obligation. If there is one thing I hate being, it’s being an audience member in a Boston crowd at a concert. Chatter, bullshit small talk simmers. A subtle riff begins to roll like far away thunder from the simple belly laid electric guitar, infantile against Moreland’s frame. People woo. And then, the bellow of a midwestern smoky voice sings heartbreak like it invented it. My partner and I found John Moreland’s music together. It was something we bonded over at the beginning of our relationship and have shared fervently with every new release since. Three songs in and Moreland still hasn’t said anything more thank a soft “thank you, thanks so much.” It’s perfect. The night rolls slowly on our tongues like the heartbreaking songs that bring the devil through the floor to slow kiss heartbreak. It’s perfect.