Kevin Saint James at Cafe Nine.
Sunday allowed music lovers to take in live music from the afternoon through the evening at Cafe Nine and the State House, in offerings that encompassed jazz to rock to hip hop, all within the space of a block.
The festivities began in the late afternoon with a holiday party at Cafe Nine in honor of the club’s friends and employees, featuring appetizers from Firehouse 12 Kitchen and Nervus Chet’s Diner, drinks from the bar (of course), and songs from the Kevin Saint James Band — on this Sunday, Kevin Saint James on vocals, Joe McWilliams on keyboard, John Collinge on tenor sax, Victor Ramirez on bass, and John Rispoli on drums.
For several months now, Saint James has been holding down a Tuesday night slot at Christopher Martin’s Restaurant and Pub on State Street, which means that he was perhaps in particularly fine voice, sliding through a set of jazz standards that cooked when the tempos went up, swung easy on the ballads, and grooved along in between. Saint James’s voice was burred with a smoky rasp that he could turn to velvet when needed; his voice in a sense dictated the sound of the rest of the band. Collinge was never afraid to put some grit into his tone when it suited. McWilliams blasted out chords on the keyboard to build the music’s intensity. Ramirez attacked his bass full force, his muscular notes the perfect complement to Rispoli’s driving, precise drums. Together, they were a tight, hot band that kept the energy of the entire room up.
“If it looks like we’re having more fun up here than you, it’s because we are,” Saint James joked. After singing his verse, he would often vacate his seat and sand to the back of the stage, letting the musicians have the foreground for their solos. He took a smoking break and let Ramirez take vocals for a song (“He makes me do this a lot,” Ramirez joked. “I call many times for help and nobody ever does.”) A steady stream of people from the crowd approached the stage to stuff bills in the tip jar.
Saint James grew more expansive as his set went on. “This is the place to play because this crowd knows how to be a crowd,” he said, expressing gratitude for their attentiveness, their appreciation, and the general sense of party in the air. “You guys are together, so we’re together.”
As Saint James wound down on the corner of State and Crown, just a few doors up State Street, in the State House, the first of four bands presented by Elm Underground was taking the stage. TIP — Conor McDonald and Terence McDonald on guitars, Chris Caimano on bass, and Mike Cesario on drums — came on all smiles. “What’s up, New Haven? Thanks for coming out on a school night,” Conor said. TIP played energetic indie rock that didn’t shy from the occasional odd time signature or unusual tonality, giving the music an adventurous tinge. By its third song, the band had amply warmed up the crowd, and the feedback loop of energy between performers and audience began.
“It’s good to be back in New Haven,” Conor said toward the end of the set. “We’ve played three crowds in three days and you’re the best one.”
Up next was Blake Hatch on vocals and guitar, backed up by Jeremy Cooney on vocals and guitar, Mike Voyce on bass, and Jake Huffman on drums. The band excelled at creating a big, anthemic sound, full of swirling textures and swells of emotion, as Hatch sang out direct lyrics full of longing. He had the crowd cheering for every number and was quick to turn attention to his bandmates and the club itself.
“Go buy some art,” he said, for example, gesturing to the painter in the corner, who was busy developing a canvas while the bands played. “He made a masterpiece in 30 minutes.” The painter — Connor Fox Bow of Fox Bow Art — specialized in landscapes that incorporated surreal, almost magical elements into them. In the course of the State House show, he painted a mountainous scene that, by the end, was overflowing with patterns of flowers in repeating concentric circles. In the middle of each circle, a thin beam of energy shot from the earth, arcing skyward, their origins and destinations unknown but their power palpable.
“We’re a family up here,” Hatch explained midway through the set. “We actually play each other’s songs, so we’re three different bands up here.” This was Hatch first turn, he mentioned, as frontman. It didn’t seem it. Toward the end of the set, the band kicked up the energy, delivering a psychedelic jam that seemed it had promised at the beginning of the set, and ending on rocker that left the dancers in the crowd sweaty.
Esor Rose — Josh Berkeley on vocals, Tristan Sayeh on guitar, Nate Sears on bass, Jordan Rippe on drums, and Austin Rivera on keyboard — then regaled the audience with its rock-inflected R&B. The sound of Esor Rose, in a way, resided in the tension between Berkeley’s smooth, sometimes cooing vocals, and Sayeh’s rougher guitar, with bass, keys, and drums ably working their instruments to fill out and support the sound. While Berkeley reached deep inside and drew his emotions out, letting them wrinkle his brow, Sayeh strutted across the stage with glam rock confidence, striking poses, making faces, and egging band members and audience on alike. Sayeh hyped up the audience in between songs as well, the result being that people danced easily as the tempos rose.
Sayeh beamed. “Please feel free to dance, move, groove with us,” he said. “We love you.”
Last came Dizzie Pocket — Jesse Ledeatte on vocals, Dylan Champion and Joseph Tine on guitars and synths, and Andrew Moore on drums — which showed an astonishing command of a polished, thought-out sound even as the band tore it up in song after song. The crowd was still in the mood for dancing, and with a blend of hip hop that took in pop, rock, and a little EDM, this band poured energy out that made it all too easy to keep going.
Ledeatte entertained in between songs sometimes by joking — for example, about starting a beef with Jimi Hendrix “because he’s a legend and I want to be a legend, so we beefing.” But just as often he displayed an earnest openness that proved charming. He talked openly about how good it was to be together after the worst of Covid.
“I’ve been through some shit over the past couple years,” he said to introduce a song called “Rage,” “but don’t worry — music has always been an emotional outlet.” The crowd howled its approval when the song ended. “Thanks for raging with me,” Ledeatte said, and meant it. At the end of their raucous set, they thanked the audience and bade them good night. But the crowd wasn’t ready to stop.
“One more!” several shouted. “One more.”
Ledeatte shrugged. “We’re here,” he said. “Let’s do this.” And they did.