Sara Bareilles at the Chicago Theatre

When pressed last winter to choose an artist to represent the letter B for my desert island A to Z Music Challenge, I didn’t pick The Beatles. I went with Sara Bareilles, one of those musicians who I admire and envy in equal parts, her talent so off the charts that it almost seems unfair. My wife and I attended her performance last night at the Chicago Theatre for her Good Grief tour, and just like the two previous times I watched her perform, Bareilles showed why she’s one of the most gifted singers and songwriters of this century.

Focusing primarily on selections from her new album, she explored grief and all its messy implications while still managing to be funny, relatable and uplifting between songs. Unlike some performers, Bareilles comes off as the genuine article: sincere, appreciative, funny and self-deprecating, and she enjoyed playing off an audience that included many young girls in attendance. That didn’t stop her from dropping a few F-bombs along the way, but I doubt there were many parents who minded. When it comes to strong female role models for young girls, you couldn’t do much better than Bareilles, who’s been champion women’s empowerment for decades now.

Even by the time I took my then-15-year-old daughters to see Bareilles in 2013, it felt like she had played an important part in their upbringing. Our little family musical group had already performed “Love Song” and “King of Anything” at a couple of block parties, and I admired that her songs presented a strong, independent woman who’s unwilling to accept putdowns and mansplaining from her partners, while also expressing vulnerability when it comes to navigating the uncertainties of life and the desire for real connection. These threads continue to appear in her work – perhaps with more urgency given our country’s current climate – and you might not find a more important lyric for a young girl than those from her new song, “Hands Off My Body.”

Still, I don’t love Bareilles’s new album, Good Grief. As brave and ambitious as she is lyrically, she plays it very safe musically. There isn’t a chord on the album that I couldn’t have predicted moments before, and I’d be hard-pressed to recall a melody from any of the songs, many of which resemble those of other artists: “Capsize Me” sounds too much like Sheryl Crows’s “Leaving Las Vegas,” and “Idiot Heart” summons Air Supply’s “Lost In Love.”  Still, there’s no denying the performances on the album, and I’m genuinely moved by the storytelling that so deftly captures the sundry emotions tied to the grieving process, from heartbreak and anger to acceptance and gratitude. Good Grief isn’t a bad effort at all – it’s just not as impactful as it could have been.

For last night’s concert, each member of Bareilles’s exceptional 6-piece backing band occupied different landings of a stage that was framed by what looked like the outline of a house, with rudimentary walls and rafters that lit up at various points throughout the show. Prior to the performance, the entire stage was draped with a light, white fabric that lifted just as the opening song “Home” began, the first track from Bareilles’s first studio album since 2019. This fabric was draped in various ways throughout the show, hovering above the stage and rippling with texture, allowing it to take on whatever color shone on it. It was a very basic but effective stage design, both spartan and visually appealing.

And Sara’s voice – well, dang. If someone had any inkling of doubt about her vocal prowess beforehand, they certainly don’t now. She is so skilled at doing whatever she chooses to do with her voice that what might be considered risky for some singers comes off as effortless. Every tool in her vocal arsenal was executed to perfection, with the lone exception of briefly forgetting a few lyrics, including one from the lone cover of the evening, Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance with Somebody.”

Beyond that, most of the concert was made up of the Good Grief album, interspersed with just a few of her older tracks, including “Armor” and “Many the Miles,” before ending the concert with five of her mainstay tracks. I was hoping to hear “Chasing the Sun” and “Satellite Call,” but hey – you can’t have it all.

Though when it comes to musical chops and on-stage charisma, Sara Bareilles might lead you to think otherwise.

Crying My Eyes Out

I’ve broken down in tears during no fewer than four concerts in the last 12 months. No shame in that, I suppose, but it does beg the question: why? Is it simply because the music moves me? Is it because of my past? A sense of loss? A realization that the artists I’m watching won’t be around much longer? Probably all of those things and more, but I’d like to delve a little deeper into the songs that had be blubbering like a fool and attempt to understand what the heck is going on.

Peter Gabriel: “Washing of the Water.”  September 2023

I didn’t see this one coming. Last time I saw Gabriel – coupled with Sting in 2016 – he opened with the eerily magnificent “The Rhythm of the Heat,” a song that’s cool as hell, but hardly one that I can relate to. But in 2023, he sat down on a chair with a small keyboard, and beside him sat long-time bassist Tony Levin. Together, they played the quiet, heart-breaking song of pain and grief and a plea for inner peace. That’s probably enough to put me over the edge in any context, but to see these two musicians, together for nearly fifty years, back on stage as a duo? That might have been enough right there, no matter what song they chose to play.

And then there’s my own past to reckon with. Gabriel’s Secret World DVD was on constant rotation in my household when my kids were young. My daughter Jessica wanted to be Paula Cole, a vocalist on that tour from 1993. Envisioning my three young children who watched that concert with me over and over – children who are all now adults living in different time zones – well, that certainly contributed to the waterworks. And to top things off, I was watching the concert with my 21-year-old son, over 36 years after I’d first seen Gabriel on his So tour, when I was an even younger 19. It boggles the mind. It conjures up a time when the future long and wide…you know the drill.

I also knew instinctively that this was the last time I’d see Peter Gabriel live, and that in the not-too-distant future, he’ll no longer be with us.

Geesh. Add that all up – how could I not cry?

James Taylor: “Shed a Little Light” and “That Lonesome Road.” June 2024

I should note first that I can’t listen to “That Lonesome Road” without crying. I find it absolutely heart-wrenching, this tale of a man – much like the man in Peter Gabriel’s ”Washing of the Water” – who’s reeling from his mistakes, untethered, attempting to rise above his pain, to start anew.

But dang, to play an encore of “Shed a Little Light” – a favorite of my wife’s and mine – followed by “Your Smiling Face” and “That Lonesome Road”…I knew, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I would never see James Taylor play again, and I felt a sense of loss for a future without this magnificent artist who so eloquently captures the human condition. It’s like what Mark Twain said about worrying: it’s like paying a debt you don’t owe. I was experiencing grief for a person who’s still living. Kinda dumb. But there it is.

Sara Bareilles” “She Used to be Mind.” August 2024

Okay. Once again, a very touching song.  Sara has about a half a dozen that can set me off in a flash.  She’s got that gift. And here I was on a beautiful night with my beautiful daughter Sarah at the beautiful Hollywood Bowl. I mean, come on! The first time I saw Sara Bareilles was with both of my daughters at this strange venue – the Scottish Rite Center in Milwaukee – where Bareilles played a solo show prior to the release of The Blessed Unrest. I blogged about that concert back in 2013, and here I was over a decade later, watching her perform this wonderful song about self-acceptance. It killed me.

Keane: “Can’t Stop Now.” September 2024

This isn’t a song that would normally set me off, but there were several things going on here. First was the pure jubilation of finally seeing this band after a few failed attempts, the last one a cancelled show in Nashville due to the pandemic. Second, my daughter Jessica was by my side (and yeah, all four of the cry-fests in this blog involve watching a band with a loved one – no coincidence). Third was the sheer power coming from the musicians on-stage, especially the vocal perfection of Tom Chaplin.  Fourth, the fact that in 2020 – just a month after that cancelled Nashville show – I got to play a Keane song with all three of my kids at a little outdoor concert on my neighbor’s driveway while families huddled outside in their safe family bubbles, none of us knowing that this was what life would look like for the rest of the year. And fifth is some serious personal stuff than I can’t delve into on-line, but suffice it to say that I’m aware of life and death, what I have and what I’ve lost, what matters and what doesn’t.

And all of that adds up to tears. Again.

And look, I grew up in a rather undemonstrative family, so I view my ability to cry – in public, no less – as a step in the right directions, generationally speaking. Maybe my kids will have a better chance to be more fearless and open than I’ve been. And maybe in thirty years they’ll be at concert with their adult children, listening to a song that has them breaking down in tears.

Sara Bareilles in Milwaukee

Playing a solo show in front of a small audience in an intimate setting has got to be one of the most difficult tasks to pull off well.  Last Friday, my daughters and I had the pleasure of seeing Sara Bareilles at one of the coolest venues I’ve ever been to: Milwaukee's Humphrey Scottish Rite Masonic Center Auditorium, a hall that seats 435 in an odd, miniaturized arena-like setting.

In the midst of a short solo tour to drum up support for her forthcoming album, The Blessed Unrest, Bareilles seems very much at ease in the more intimate setting, eager to exchange quips with fans, and exhibiting that rare quality of being witty while still coming off as appreciative and sincere.  

Bareilles’s piano chops are adequate, not brilliant, and her guitar work is similarly restrained, but none of that really mattered, because the star of the show was her vocal work on top of well-crafted pop songs.  She’s got some serious pipes, with far more dexterity and control that I could have anticipated.  As she effortlessly glided above the chord progressions of her new tune, “Manhattan,” to a perfectly hushed audience, Bareilles’s voice reminded me of Nora Jones with more of an edge.  Unlike Jones, Bareilles has just enough anger, as exhibited in songs like “Love Song” and “King of Anything,” to make her repertoire varied and interesting.

What I like about Bareilles, and what made me particularly eager to take my daughters to the show, is the strong nature of her lyrics.  Rarely do you find a performer whose words are both positive yet unyielding, vulnerable yet confident.  Even her angry songs don’t lash out at her victims.  Instead, they reveal her strength, as if to say, “You’re simply not good enough for me.”  Whether or not it’s been her intention as a performer, assisting girls and women to raise the bar in their love lives had been a fine byproduct of her career.

Her new song, “Brave,” co-written with Fun’s Jack Antonoff, couldn’t have a more fitting message, especially for teenagers: be who you are and don’t be afraid to speak out.  It’s not filled with f-bombs.  It doesn’t play the victim.  It doesn’t lay blame.  It just inspires. 

Bareilles’s 90 minute performance left the small crowd happy, even after the odd encore of Elton John’s “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.”  But in a way, her rendition of this classic song exemplified the entire evening: her sparse arrangement cultivated a more creative approach, allowing for minor tempo and harmonic modifications, not to mention adlibbed vocal parts, that resulted in just enough unpredictability to make the song sound new again.

No small feat.

Sara's new album is due out in July.