Words and Photos by Andrea Regina Esperon
Have you ever felt homesick for a place you’ve never even been to? That’s what seeing The Barr Brothers felt like.
The Montreal-based indie folk-rock band blends styles of folk and experimental textures to create something that sounds lived-in. And listening to them, I felt like I had been to wherever they call home.
What makes their live show so powerful is their patience. They let each song breathe. Instead of jumping straight into a chorus, they stretch out the intros, build long instrumental interludes, and give the audience time to understand how the song is forming. A simple rhythm begins. Then a guitar line. Then harp. Then harmony. Slowly, carefully, they climb until the full song blooms. And their introductory song, “Naturally” did just that, which locked the crowd into their artistry.
I honestly didn’t know we were on the fourth song already by the way they are able to seamlessly transition between each song. On their fourth song, “Look Before It Changes,” everything slowed. The ambiance of the audience softened. The stage lights casted this warm, amber glow that made everything feel almost country, but dusty golden, even though we were in Brooklyn. The mix of ukulele and harp felt surreal. In an already small venue, somehow it became more intimate than before and you can tell this song meant something deeper. As each lyric unravelled, it became more than just a performance, but they were singing it from somewhere internal.
Before the show had started, I overheard a group saying they had seen the Barr Brothers perform on the Music Hall of Williamsburg stage, formally called Northsix, in 2007. From the long-standing fans to first-time listeners, I watched people transform in the universal language that is music. Song by song, heads started nodding, shoulders started swaying and by midset, they weren’t just observers, they were in tune with the artists.
After the fourth song, they thanked Anna Tivel and shared a quiet reminder to “Never take things for granted.” These words carried a bit more weight after knowing that the music venue was set to close at the end of 2026. Tonight’s performance was not just another night of live music, but a shred of awareness that despite venues closing, the power of music lives on through the community.
The Barr Brothers moved into “Another Tangerine,” which sliced through the room with a raw, almost gritty cry. Later, “She Doesn’t Sleep With The Covers On” lifted the energy again, brightening the crowd’s mood and bringing a lighter pulse back to the set.
But what was my favorite moment? It was hearing “Burn Card” for the first time. They manipulated the guitar strings in a way that made me do a double take. I see him pulling and bending them until the sound becomes nearly unrecognizable. The tone had this smoldering simmer that mimicked the wail of a violin. Growing up as a musician myself, I am rarely surprised by technique but that moment genuinely inspired me. Watching him create something so artistically different, pushing the instrument beyond what I thought I knew, made me want to go home and experiment with my own guitar.
After a long, echoing applause, they began “Even The Darkness Has Arms” In the pre-chorus, they sang, “If I die, let me die for you. If it’s all I do, let me do it for you,” capturing that desperate longing to run home to someone you can’t afford to lose. But in that moment, I saw it as almost an ode as a quiet acknowledgment of the state of the venue itself. But even through that sense of loss, there is reassurance that no matter the venue disappearing, their connection, the music will not. They’ll still stand with us, song after song, wherever the next stage may be.
They closed the main set with “Upsetter” which was more lively, explosive if you will. To me, it sounded like a new chapter. Was this a preview of their next chapter?
Or so we thought! They did an encore!
They surprised the crowd with an instrumental rendition of “Lean on Me” by Bill Withers. Without lyrics at first, the melody alone carried the message. In a world that feels like it’s constantly shifting, from local venues closing, to an industry so fast paced, their reminder felt timely. The community built from our legacies doesn’t have to disappear with these changes. Learning to lean on someone, especially now, is needed more than ever. As the familiar chorus approached, the audience stepped in, voices rising together. In that moment, the line between performer and listener blurred. The students became the musicians, joining the band in a shared refrain of lean on me.
They followed with another track, singing, “We have come a long, long way to stand before you here today.” The entire room clapped in rhythm as they reflected once more on 2007. From 30 people in the crowd to now a room so packed. At a time when spaces vanish and creative communities are forced to adapt, their message felt beautifully uncomplicated: lean on each other and keep the spirit alive.
With an emotional close, they thanked their staff and bandmates one by one before ending the night with a heartfelt, “Thank you.”
And from somewhere in the crowd, a voice called back:
“Thank you too.”
Loudspeaker Collective 