Waxahatchee and MJ Lenderman Bring Intimacy to the Paramount
Katie Crutchfield has spent the last decade shaping Waxahatchee into one of the most emotionally resonant projects in modern indie folk; her songwriting is sharp and tender, rooted in Southern storytelling and delivered with a voice that feels both familiar and otherworldly. MJ Lenderman, meanwhile, has carved out his own lane with a scrappy, country‑tinged indie rock that’s equal parts humor and heartbreak. Their collaborative tour has been one of the most talked‑about pairings of the year; a co‑headlining run that blurs the line between two distinct catalogs and instead presents something closer to a shared musical language.
Walking into the Paramount Theater, I had an instant feeling of a warmer setting. The stage was minimal and mostly dark, only lit by a few house lights. A cluster of carpets sat in the middle of the stage, surrounded by a few chairs, lamps, a vintage TV, and scattered instruments, creating a living‑room feel that softened the grandeur of the venue. There was even a stuffed dog sitting on the side, which at times looked real and even barked in the middle of the set, creating laughter. It was the kind of detail that made the whole night feel less like a concert and more like being invited into someone’s home.
Tonight’s show would be very unique in the sense that both artists remained on the floor side by side, taking turns singing their own songs and providing backing vocals and guitar for each other. There were only two more musicians playing with them. This was billed as Waxahatchee with MJ Lenderman, and that’s exactly what it was; it felt like they were in the same band, sharing vocal duties and weaving their catalogs together with an ease that made the format feel inevitable.
Their set was intimate, and people listened attentively, only sharing their enthusiasm when they recognized the opening chords of a favorite song. Waxahatchee was mesmerizing, wearing a white dress and looking like a fairy angel walking on earth. Her voice was soothing as she played her songs, perfectly complimenting Lenderman’s backing vocals. They were such a great combo together. Admittedly, I didn’t know much about Lenderman’s music going in, but I left impressed; his voice, slightly ragged and earnest, added a grounding texture to Crutchfield’s clarity.
It was my first time catching either of them live, and I enjoyed the calm of the set and the enticing vocals. The stripped‑down format made every lyric feel sharper, every harmony more intentional. Songs from Waxahatchee’s Tigers Blood and Lenderman’s Manning Fireworks blended seamlessly, each artist stepping forward and then stepping back, never competing, always complementing.
The highlights were the moments when their voices locked together, especially on Waxahatchee favorites like “Right Back to It” and “Crowbar,” and Lenderman standouts like “Wristwatch” and “Love Streams.” The crowd responded with soft cheers of recognition, but mostly, they listened in a way that felt rare for a room this size.
When they returned for the encore, the living‑room atmosphere expanded in the best possible way as they were joined by their opener, Brennan Wedl. The three of them gathered close and launched into a run of four covers that felt like a shared mixtape passed between friends. They opened with “My Life” by Iris DeMent, easing the room back into motion before moving into “Abandoned” by Lucinda Williams, which was my favorite of the night; Waxahatchee’s voice wrapped around the song with a kind of aching reverence while Lenderman and Wedl filled the edges with soft harmonies. They followed with “All the Right Reasons” by The Jayhawks, a warm, glowing moment that felt tailor‑made for this trio, and closed with “Six O’Clock News” by Kathleen Edwards, their voices blending into something tender and lived‑in.
It was the kind of encore that didn’t feel like an add‑on but a continuation of the night’s intimacy, a final reminder of how naturally these artists fit together. By the end of the night, the living‑room stage setup made perfect sense. This wasn’t a spectacle; it was a conversation. Two artists, two catalogs, one shared space. Waxahatchee and MJ Lenderman created a world that felt gentle and grounded, a reminder that intimacy doesn’t require silence, just attention.