Brian Slattery Photos
Cloudbelly.
Corey Laitman, a.k.a. Cloudbelly, smiled at the eager crowd about halfway through their set Sunday afternoon at Cafe Nine. “I’ve never done a matinee show,” they said, marveling at the experience of performing earlier in the day. “I don’t feel tired at all. I don’t have to rally.” Laughter rippled through the room.
“Me neither!” said someone from the audience.
“I feel so relaxed!” Laitman said.
Such was the mood for the latest edition of Cafe Nine’s Sunday Buzz Matinee, presented by Cygnus Radio, as the series hosted western Massachusetts-based acts Cloudbelly and Lisa Bastoni for an afternoon of heartfelt music and genuine mirth.
Lisa Bastoni came to the Cafe Nine stage armed with a series of well-crafted and subtly executed songs that easily drew listeners in and held them there. At the heart of her set was a meditation on grief. Early on she mentioned that the guitar she was playing belonged to her grandmother, and that she had loved her grandparents’ house. After her grandmother died, “the house sat empty for a very long time and I would go walk around it sadly,” she said. She saw how it changed over months and years. Eventually it was too sad for her to visit, “and I went home and wrote this song” instead, she said. The song was called “Sorrow’s a String.”
“I do think that grief is the thing that keeps you connected to someone you love,” she said. “I’m sorry it’s a sad one.” She gave a small smile and added. “I love sad songs.” The song was gentle and powerful, and got deep applause.
Bastoni proceeded through songs written while thinking about author David Foster Wallace and songs written to chronicle the different phases of her life. Some were funny, as when she lived in Austin, Tex. working a series of temp jobs that finall ended with a gig working in a gorilla suit, “handing out loose cigarettes and promotional materials,” she said to laughter. “No one bought the cigarettes from me. I don’t know why. Maybe it was the gorilla suit.”
She ended her set with an uplifting song about the security of her current family relationship, explaining that she was asked to write a romantic song and the most romantic thing she could think of, she said, was “Zillow related” — a song that included the line “let’s look at houses we know we can’t afford.”
But before that she remarked, as many visiting performers have in the past, about the vibe of Cafe Nine. “Thank you for being here, by the way,” she said. “You never know what to expect when you’re out with your songs.”
Laitman began their first song while people were still talking in between sets. By the end of the song, the crowd was silent again, pulled into the spell of pairing of lush music and intricate, complex lyrics. They then introduced themselves as Cloudbelly, which is the name of their band, and proceeded quickly to explain how awkward that felt when they performed alone.
“Just to be fully transparent,” they said, “which is something I’ve been advised against in this case, but then I just compulsively do it when I’m on stage.” The winning delivery of this drew peals of generous laughter from the audience.
Laitman’s songs were delicate and powerful, with solid guitar work backing up a voice that could slice the air with a note and navigate an intricate melody when needed. It was more than enough to enrapture the crowd.
They picked up on the thread that Bastoni had introduced, of grief as a string. “I feel like that’s what tethers me to songwriting and to art,” they said. They proceeded through a set of songs including “Psychopomp,” which they said was a songwriting prompt from a colleague. At the same time, they added cheerfully, “I was going through a breakup, so this is what became of that.”
Bastoni mentioned casually that she had written a setlist for herself and had more or less ignored it, playing instead whatever she felt like. Laitman followed suit, they explained most of the way through their set, “but that means that I don’t know how many songs I played and I don’t know what time it is.” There was laughter yet again.
“So, say, two more?” they said.
“Or three,” someone in the crowd replied. They finished their set to a very warm round of applause. It was still light out.
“Have a great rest of day,” Laitman said. “Which exists!”