REVIEW: THE BALLROOM THIEVES @ THE SPIRE CENTER 2/10

By: Sofia Butler

“Tiny revolution.” 

This is the essence that permeates the The Ballroom Thieves’ February performance in Plymouth, Massachusetts. The soft ocean air welcomes the audience gently into an evening that can only be described as a gathering of old friends– a homecoming. 

Walking into the Spire Center brings a distinct feeling of stepping into an old friend’s home. No massive crowds, frenetic energy, or yelling. Here, body and voice are called to whisper. As the crowd grows, many older folks enter with smiling faces as they chat with one another like old friends. There is no urgency. Everyone takes their time.

The Ballroom Thieves are known for their energetic and dynamic shows, filled with soul stirring strings, electric guitars, drums, and harmonious vocals. They command a room with their vigor and passionate lyrics– calling light to the dark, cracking parts of our world. During this tour of their newest album Clouds, however, they shift the tone to give their audience a glimpse of the bones beneath their music. 

As Callie Peters, vocalist, cellist and bassist of The Ballroom Thieves, and Martin Early, vocalist and guitarist, walk out on stage, they are greeted with a warm round of applause. The lights wash over the modest set-up in a purple-blue glow. Callie peers at the audience and says through a sly smile: “They had us hold the show for 10 minutes because the bar line was too long.” She bursts into laughter, “I thought ‘that’s my kinda crowd!’” The crowd whoops and laughs along. 

“Welcome everyone,” Martin continues with a gentle half-smile. “With this show, we want it to feel like you have come into our living room.” 

And with that, Martin and Callie dive into “Shine” off of their newest album. The acoustic guitar and their delicate harmonies pull the audience into a gentle, lullaby state. As they play, the audience’s energy becomes another complimentary tone within the band’s harmonies. Music lives and breathes on its own, and songs have a way of transforming a thousand ways each time they are played. Instead of shying away from this elusiveness out of fear, the band welcomes it. They use this dynamic nature as an opportunity to give their audience insight into the depth and complexity of art. 

Martin explains, “When we put the record out, then that’s the definitive version and then everyone that listens to us, it’s that version or the live version– and those are the two points you can look at when you’re looking at a song. We figured it might be fun to just show you a different point in that process.” 

With this, the duo launches into an unreleased, unfinished song. The song feels like winter itself: biting, stinging, bleak, and yet gentle and tender. A combination of frost and snow. 

“Remember when / your insecurities were more mysterious / there was less fear in us / and you never wanted anyone to know / now look, look, look around.” 

The urgency of Callie’s cello playing cuts through the air in the room, intertwining with Martin’s guitar, and lifting their voices. The song builds in intensity, and the cello echoes Martin and Callie’s voices, almost like the call of a drum. 

As the final resonance of the cello and guitar ripple outward, the audience erupts in cheers. 

Martin grins. “If you have any feedback about that one, you can let us know after the show. If you liked it, didn’t like it, hated it, thought it was okay…those are pretty much the options.” The crowd laughs. One woman calls out “love love love!” and everyone whoops in response. 

The rest of the show unfolds in the same gentle, somber tone. There is an abundance of laughter and banter. Both Callie and Martin’s parents are in the audience. The atmosphere grows warmer and tighter, like the band has simply woven the fabric of community right into our hearts just by giving us an authentic glimpse into their music and minds. 

After an encore cover of “Blues Run the Game,” the band receives a standing ovation. Callie and Martin make their way to the back of the Spire Center to hug and talk to anyone who wants to chat. A feeling of fullness permeates the room. 

The Ballroom Thieves’ performance fashioned a container for community. They gifted the audience a reminder that, somehow, in the deepest, stark moments of winter lies an ember of warmth. A reminder that belonging is dynamic– and love is a verb. This winter tour continues to shine a light on dark spaces, but in a whole new sense, by weaving a fabric of intimacy through the bare nature of their performance. The Ballroom Thieves was courageous and raw, and in doing so, created a tiny revolution.