Last night, Gillian Welch and Dave Rawlings performed at Atlanta Symphony Hall. It was my first time seeing them live and they made a very strong impression. Performing in front of one of the most appreciative crowds I’ve ever been a part of, their music transformed the hall in every possible way.
There are so many things that could be said about Welch and Rawlings. For starters, the songs themselves are unparalleled in their evocative beauty. They’re timeless and irresistible. They’re often sad, but never despairing. They move through chord progressions and melodies with eloquence, grace, and purpose.
Then there’s Welch and Rawlings. The two of them perform as if a single person with two hearts, two minds, and two souls. They know each other so well and yet seem to avoid the mundane and banal predictability that comes with such deep knowing. I’m still wondering how two musicians, equipped with only guitars, the occasional banjo and harmonica, and the human voice are able to create such vast sound.
Lately I’ve been thinking about the human voice. And at the end of the day, the voice itself, of both Welch and Rawlings, may be the greatest treasure they offer. I’m not sure I can adequately describe Welch’s voice or the sound their two voices make when they unite as one in harmony. But I’m sure that everyone in attendance last night was completely captivated by their voices offering up such sweet song.