Loudon Wainwright III // Old Town School of Folk Music

Grandfather of folk, Loudon Wainwright III redefined what a “one-man show” could be in his performance of Surviving Twin that I witnessed this past Sunday night at the Old Town School of Folk in Logan Square. Combining many songs from his vast catalogue and theatrical storytelling, it was unlike anything I had ever seen before. 

Wainwright started the show by coming out of a side door already with a guitar around his neck, launching into the title track that shared the same name as the show. This was a reprisal performance of Surviving Twin which was first performed in 2013 and was wrapped up in 2018 after the show’s contents were released on an album. The opening song set the tone for the rest of the show, outlining the similarities of him and his father: how they were more than just a father and son— thus the title Surviving Twin was incredibly apt. 

At 73 years old, his voice still sounded just like it did on all of his old recordings. The stage was simply decorated: with a worn leather seat, a banjo on a stand, a piano in the background, a coat-hook off to the side, and a projection screen above his head. 

I expected the show to just be a regular concert, but it morphed into something that was closer to a piece of theatre. Wainwright prefaced, after finishing his first song, that the evening was going to be a conversation between him and his late father. Loudon Wainwright Jr. was a writer for Life Magazine from the 1960s into the 80s. After a song, Wainwright would launch into a memorized performance of one of his father’s articles. The title of each particular piece and the first line was projected on the screen. These monologues weren’t just simply read, they were acted. Wainwright would change his voice when new characters were introduced. He had such personality and life on stage as he assumed his father’s voice in front of our eyes. 

The whole production was incredibly structured and rehearsed. It was all meticulously planned. However, there were moments during his own songs where he adlibbed, and this sheen fell away. In the middle one song he realized that his guitar wasn’t sounding quite right and stopped to re-tune it. He had a smile on his face and joked, “Folk music, amirite?” Wainwright called out for a sing-along during one of the songs, urging the audience to join in with him, calling back to old-school folk tradition. 

The themes of the show were heavy since they were rooted within a father/son relationship. It was with his own father and also his relationship with his eldest son, singer and songwriter Rufus Wainwright. There were moments of laughter like during the song, “Man & Dog”, in which he sang about what it was like to have a dog whilst living in a city environment. It followed a heart wrenching story that his father wrote about the death about their family dog. I’d never even had a dog of my own, but I had tears in my eyes. I was immediately transported to one of my first losses, albeit a fictional one, Marley from the novel Marley & Me. I read it in the back of my dad’s car as a nine-year-old and was destroyed as I reached the end of the book. I still remembered that pain.

The crowd was older as I expected it to be. When I’d brought up my love for Wainwright to my friends, they never knew who he was. I wasn’t mad or uncomfortable about the age disparity, it felt like I was back in high school when I would go see all of the Oscar nominated movies with my parents on Sunday afternoons and the rest of the audience would have a solid 25+ years on me. There was an old man sitting next to me, probably around the same age as Wainwright and lovingly head-bopped along to every single song. I felt at ease that I was surrounded by people who also shared an affinity for head-banging along to soft folk music. The crowd was incredibly invested. At the end of the performance Wainwright got a standing ovation, rightfully deserved. There wasn’t an encore, but since the show was so planned and felt like a play it didn’t facilitate one— although everyone in attendance would have graciously welcomed a few more songs. 

I was a very emotional person, especially when it came to music. I was no stranger to crying at concerts, it was just that usually my tears were from extreme happiness (i.e. each time I had seen Vampire Weekend this year). Wainwright’s show was no exception, and since it was rooted in family and it was so raw, I was obliterated. It wasn’t even that it was necessarily relatable, I guessed it was due to how many small moments we, as the audience, were welcomed into. It was pure vulnerability laid out in front of us. It wasn’t a fluffy portrayal, he led us into some of the darker corners as well. There were tears streaming down my face— I was not afraid to admit it. I was very moved by musicals and just theatre in general (Almost every time I listened to Hamilton I still cried, especially during Act II). Since, Surviving Twin was this unexpected conglomeration of two of my loves, I was hit to my core in the best way possible. 

Director and producer, Judd Apatow was a huge fan of Wainwright and his immense catalogue of work. His songs have been in his movies, and the two have had a long creative relationship. Apatow has actually produced a filmed version of Surviving Twin and it will be available on Netflix on November 13th. I was so excited after finding this out since I would be able to revisit it. It was so important that something like this was going to be immortalized.

I’m also thrilled that I will be able to share it with my parents (who share my love of folk music) and my writerly friends who love good storytelling. Hopefully with this special more people will discover him and get to hear his stories; the world is better with folk music in it.