Rostam Setlist

Like a Spark
In a River
The Road to Death
Young Lion
I Walk a Line
Different Light
Back of a Truck
To Feel No Way
Gwan
Forgive Is to Know
Bike Dream
Hardy
— Encore —
Unfold You
Come Apart
The Weight

Tour Dates

6/15 – Toronto, ON @ The Opera House
6/17 – Cambridge, MA @ The Sinclair
6/18 – New York, NY @ Webster Hall
6/20 – Washington DC @ 9:30 Club

Rostam‘s opener took the stage Saturday at Fine Line without much fanfare — playing jazzy saxophone structures alone in the dark, before proper spotlights could find him. Nelson Devereaux, a Minneapolis musician (who isn’t on the tour, just sitting in for the night), settled into a chair in a little leopard-print headband and used a bank of looping pedals to build himself a band of one. The loops were subtle and faintly spooky, and because his pedals had no echo-fade, the pieces didn’t resolve so much as stop — each one cut off mid-thought. He swiveled to a small keyboard to play against his own looped saxophone; on his last song, he sang. Self-contained, quiet, alone, reflective.

Rostam’s new American Stories paints a picture of his America. The six-piece band gathered underneath the album cover’s provocative centerpiece: an illuminated backdrop featuring an inverted, color-distorted U.S. flag. This is a conversation starter, according to Rostam — an invitation to reflect on what the American project means to you, and to participate in its ongoing redefinition. His last visit here was eight whole years ago (February 14, 2018), time for plenty of American history to happen. As we got a few songs in, Rostam introduced his slide guitar player, who was celebrating his 32nd birthday. “But we’re not going to sing yet — we want to get this crowd warmed up first.” I’ve seen a band ask the crowd to sing happy birthday: I’ve never seen anyone defer it.

American Stories is a step forward for Rostam as a songwriter, composer, and producer. Middle Eastern scales and instruments brush up against a slide guitar. Where he used to deploy a string section for orchestral effect, he’s trying fiddles. His characteristically gorgeous studio textures have taken a turn towards Americana: the folk tradition that always had global influences. The album has every trait of his Grammy-award winning production sense, but how would it translate live? I needn’t have worried: the different components were clear and nicely separated wherever I stood. (The new material doesn’t demand overwhelming volume, which is where Fine Line’s PA can get a little muddled.)

They played all nine songs from the new album, including the new single “Back of a Truck”. That song is a great example of borrowed scales and instruments over Western chords and harmonies — jarring and unfamiliar at first, but solid enough to get stuck in your head. Rostam has always pulled the most interesting intimate details in the scenes he sets, but “Truck” has a chorus that does a couple things I love. First: calling back to other pop songs. Second: rotating a little bit, defying expectations.

It was written on the back of a truck / Six words from a song you loved / “Don’t don’t think twice no it’s all right” / Sometimes the words mean what you like

Saw it written on the back of a truck / Six words from a song you loved / “You just keep me hanging on” / Sometimes the words say what you want

For a songwriter, the chorus is the part worthy of repetition. It’s got to be as memorable as anything else, by definition what people are going to hear over and over. I imagine Rostam knows how strong his hook is, and tweaking it is a flex. He calls up Bob Dylan, and then the Supremes. The change suggests two chapters of a story, a relationship spelled out on the back of two trucks.

“I can’t believe we only have one song left,” said Rostam, and after “Hardy”, the band did leave the stage. After a short break, they returned. Nelson Devereaux rejoined them for Changephobia‘s “Unfold You”. We would get the two remaining unplayed tracks from American Stories, “Come Apart” and “The Weight”, but not before the slide guitar player got his birthday serenade — a common exercise, but one that only works if everyone does it. By then, we had become a crowd capable of it: united, in community, for one joyful sing-along. Sometimes the flag means what you like.