Katie Gavin calls herself ‘gay famous,’ and truer words have never been spoken.
On the night the lead singer of one of the most iconic queer bands of our time played a small show on her debut album tour in Washington, D.C., there was another band playing a show at a sister venue around the corner. To avoid the risk of fulfilling stereotypes, let’s just say it was really easy to tell who was in line to see Gavin and who was there to see the other band. And I was more than proud to be a part of the line for the gays and theys.
In one of the last stops of the What a Relief tour, Katie Gavin, lead singer of the band Muna, brought her impressive multi-instrumental skills, the astoundingly introspective and complex lyricism, and effortless charm and sense of humor to the Atlantis in Washington, D.C. on Dec. 13 in a warm night of ‘holding space,’ and soft acoustic guitar.
The energy in the venue is more muted than what I’d expect vibes at a Muna show would be; attendees converse lightly with one another while the pre-show playlist rotates through soft folk, bluegrass, and indie songs. At one point, Gavin’s tour manager lights incense onstage.
Nana Adjoa, a Dutch and Ghanian musician from Amsterdam, opens the night with a short set. With an indie folk style and soft, crooning voice reminiscent of Phoebe Bridgers, Adjoa enthralls the audience with a stripped-down version of her most recent release, ‘One of Us,’ as well as several unreleased songs. Her performance receives enthusiastic applause and cheering from the audience, and as she leaves the stage, I wish she would play a few more songs.
The lights go out abruptly, and before I can gather my thoughts and prepare myself for what’s coming, Cynthia Erivo’s ‘Defying Gravity’ starts blasting at top volume. After a few seconds, Katie Gavin herself steps onto stage brandishing a strawberry tea kettle to deafening cheers. As the audience bursts into laughter and starts singing along, Gavin pours herself a cup of tea in a matching strawberry mug, as she dances along to the song and takes a seat on the stool positioned in the middle of the small stage.
Gavin greets the audience as if she’s reuniting with old friends, waving to them warmly with a cheerful ‘Hi, babies!’ Accompanied only by Adjoa on the guitar, Gavin picks up an acoustic guitar and kicks off the show on a thoughtful note, with three of her slower, more introspective tracks; the darkly self-aware but ultimately hopeful simple guitar track ‘Today,’ the potentially Persephone-inspired, fairy-core ballad ‘Sparrow,’ and the dark and muted song exploring settling in a relationship, ‘As Good As It Gets,’ with Adjoa singing the second verse, originally sung by Mitski on the album.
While explaining the story behind the next song, Gavin giggles and says, ‘I’m really trying so hard not to say holding space,’ referring to her Wicked entrance. After laughing with the audience about that, Gavin pivots to some of her more upbeat and more bizarre songs, taking the opportunity to flex her impressive fiddle, keyboard, and Shruti box skills.
She pulls out the fiddle for the first time for ‘Inconsolable,’ a peppy folk song exploring generational trauma; she sings, ‘We’re from a long line of people; We’d describe as inconsolable; We don’t know how to be helped.’ The audience sings along loudly to the last part of the chorus, ‘But I’ve seen baby lizards run into the river when they open their eyes; Even though no one taught them how or why; So maybe when you kiss me, I can let you see me cry; And if we keep going by the feeling, we can get by.’
For some reason, Gavin’s fans have latched strongly onto the baby lizard metaphor, with many giving her baby lizard themed gifts and even dressing up as baby lizards at her concerts. After ‘Inconsolable,’ right on cue, a fan hands Gavin a beautifully hand-crocheted blue and white baby lizard tapestry. Gavin thanks her profusely, taking a moment to say that she never thought people would relate to the metaphor so strongly.
It’s really easy to feel comfortable at a Katie Gavin concert. She exudes a slightly chaotic, extremely safe, older sister energy; she jokes with the audience, pokes fun at them, and shares personal anecdotes about each of the songs, creating a relaxed, intimate, and jovial environment. At one point, Gavin says that her sister, who is in attendance, told her that she looks at the audience as if she is in love with every single one of them, and she giggles as she says, ‘And I’ve found myself doing it again!’
My personal highlight of the show is ‘Sanitized,’ a song Gavin calls ‘wild.’ I prefer ‘experimental and fascinatingly unsettling, yet also addicting.’ She puts down her fiddle and takes a seat at the keyboard, starting off the song with an unsettling, dissonant series of piano notes, a musical theme that permeates through the entire song.
The lyrics of ‘Sanitized’ are particularly rich and complex; Gavin sings, ‘I lie perfectly still so I don’t mess up my hair; I’m a sanitized girl; I clean up for you, my dear; These pure, pretty thrills go stillborn in the air; It’s a sanitized world; How could anything grow here?’ (Don’t get me started on my interpretation of this song. Like Gavin, I’m a self-proclaimed words girl, and ‘Sanitized’ is a gold mine of parallels, metaphors, and imagery.)
In the most heartwarming moment of the night, Gavin invites her sister, Emily, onstage to sing ‘The Baton,’ a poignant, reflective, cry-inducing song about mothers and daughters. The sisters sing in unison, ‘So go on girl, it’s out of my hands; I can’t come where you’re goin’; Time unfurls and you’ll understand; The baton, it will be passed again.’ I also spot Emily’s fiancé sobbing his eyes out during the performance, and I hope he’s emotional because he has a wonderful mother.
Gavin closes out the evening with ‘Aftertaste,’ an upbeat song that’s perhaps the most Muna of her solo tracks. She and the audience sing in unison, ‘I feel naked; When you look my way; You can see it on my face; You’re the only reason I came here; You’re the only reason I stayed here; And I’m livin’; On the aftertaste; Don’t you tell me it’s too late; You’re the only reason I came here; You’re the only reason it’s so clear to me now.’
The audience starts applauding before Gavin plays the last note. Beaming and tearing up slightly, she thanks them profusely as she blows kisses and gracefully accepts more gifts from people in the front row. Before disappearing backstage, she grabs her strawberry teacup and waves goodbye one last time. (‘Naked in Manhattan’ by Chappell Roan starts playing immediately afterwards, and the venue full of queer people turns into an impromptu dance party.)
Katie Gavin is far more than the lead singer of Muna. She’s an accomplished and well-established folk songwriter, talented guitarist and fiddler, and above all, she’s a gorgeous person with an invitingly warm and slightly chaotic personality who happens to be a powerhouse performer and songwriter. This night felt less like a concert and more like going to a friend of a friend’s gig at a local or hometown bar. With her debut album, Gavin has created a space for her impressive lyricism and boundless creativity to thrive outside of Muna, and getting to experience her solo music performed stripped-back and acoustic is the highest privilege.
Listen to Gavin’s discography here.
WORDS ALLYSON PARK
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