Live Review: Julien Baker, Adam Torres, June Jones

There's a lot going on in June Jones' voice. As frontperson of local trio Two Steps On The Water - but tonight performing solo - Jones sings in an affecting, slightly hoarse voice that's prone to cracking (in just the right way). At times, her voice verges on whiny, but then slips easily into a surprisingly lovely falsetto. She's also quite a proficient guitarist that successfully avoids most singer-songwriter cliches.

Adam Torres is less interested in subverting singer-songwriter tropes but, damn, does he do well! His reverb-heavy, picked guitar notes and disarmingly high-pitched voice are reminiscent of Ryan Adams' upper register. His simple chord progressions are exquisitely plucked and strummed. Torres looks and sounds like he's from Rivendell. In addition to original songs such as Morning Rain and Voices From The Top Of The Mountain, Torres offers a faithful, measured rendition of Big Star's Thirteen - a bona fide guy-with-a-guitar standard. Torres serves as a good reminder that music doesn't need to break ground or subvert expectations to enthral; to be beautiful, above all else, is okay too.

With her head poking just slightly above the now-standing crowd, Julien Baker begins her set with the ephemeral, harmonic-heavy title track from 2015's Sprained Ankle. Over the next 50 minutes, highlights from her debut - Rejoice, Something, Everybody Does - are interspersed with songs from her upcoming second album, including the morose Funeral Pyre and Distant Solar Systems. Blacktop stuns with its beautiful melodic motif. On Rejoice, Baker sings about her deeply personal relationship with God in a way that even the most ardent atheist would find moving.

Baker is a rare indie singer-songwriter who would excel in a televised singing competition. In concert, her voice is more capable of sustaining big notes than her muted recordings suggest. She also has excellent microphone technique, expertly drawing closer to and pulling back from the mic. Plus, she makes extensive use of melisma and TV audiences eat that shit up. She switches between gently strumming an acoustic and building swelling loops on an electric guitar.

Before departing the stage, Baker remarks, as her support acts did, on what a respectfully quiet audience we've been. And it's true. It's a roomful of bodies gently swaying, silent but for a few people whispering the words under their breath. We are too polite to even cheer for an encore.