An Evening with Courtney Barnett

Photos by Willl McLaughlin

My Evening With Courtney Barnett - and everyone else who was at that concert

This is, above anything else, a story of great redemption. It all started two years ago in 2021, I hadn’t begun living in Chicago yet, and I was working as a photographer at the Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art (Mass MoCA) and was familiar with one (1) Courtney Barnett song. While filming a large art piece built for the express purpose of being set on fire for an audience in Salem, New York, a member of the art fabrication team had played “City Looks Pretty” on their speaker and I had overheard it, thought it was good, and added it to my Spotify. I’d hear it every now and then and remember how much I liked it, but that was about as far as my appreciation for Courtney Barnett went.

In August of 2022, Courtney Barnett curated a touring festival called “Here and There Fest,” inviting acts she had personally picked out to spend a day performing. One of these festivals had been booked for Mass MoCA. I figured since I still had connections to the museum, I could probably get into the festival to photograph, but as someone who had really only heard one of Barnett’s songs, I decided it probably wasn’t worth the hour commute. Besides, I was working elsewhere that day. After missing her performance that day, I decided to give more of her music a try and discovered one of my favorite musicians of all time. If I had simply asked my old boss, I guarantee I would have been able to attend the concert, shoot it for the museum, potentially get backstage, and possibly meet Barnett. As I fell further in love with Barnett’s music, I felt more and more bitter and idiotic for missing that experience. But, and this part is important, kids: I always held my head up high.

So, when Barnett announced a small, intimate string of shows in support of her new instrumental album “End of the Day,” I was ecstatic to see that the first show was in Brattleboro, VT, about an hour from my family’s home. Barnett’s show would be held in a venue called the Stone Church, a name that tells you everything you need to know about the place; it was a tiny, cleared out and redecorated, stone church. Before flying back home to attend the concert, I decided to reach out to Barnett’s PR people in hopes of getting a photo pass and found an email in my inbox saying I would be able to photograph the performance. While checking into the show, it became incredibly clear how small the venue really was when I was told they don’t actually have any type of pass, they just see you with a camera and assume you’re supposed to be there. There was no photo pit, the stage was about a foot off the ground, church-style, under a stained glass window, and there were no pews, it was standing room only.

Before the show started, I made my way to the front row where a woman stood at the very front of the crowd, making sure there was about a foot of space between the stage and the audience. She, as she excitedly told me, was Barnett’s bodyguard for the evening. Her job was to make sure no one dared take a photo or video after the first ten minutes, and that absolutely no one tried to touch Courtney Barnett. When people would mention how lucky she was to be that close to the stage, she’d say she agreed, she was a fan who had missed Barnett the last few times she was in town, and made sure she was working this night.

After Anjimle opened the show (a side note, I had actually seen and met Anjimle before when he played at a small black box theater I was bartending at. He was a beautiful musician then, and he is now), I began talking with Barnett’s bodyguard-for-the-night as well as the people behind me, a twenty-something-year-old and their unfortunately short parents (the father would reassuringly cheer Barnett on, making sure she felt comfortable and cared for, “we love you, Courtney,” and “you sound great tonight, Courtney”), and was able to make a deal.

For the entirety of the show, I could continue to stay where I was, pushed right up against the stage, so close I was resting my head on Barnett’s monitor before her set, only if I stayed seated on the floor the entire time. So, for about 90 minutes, I sat with my legs pulled up to me, watching Courtney Barnett play a solo set from about a foot in front of her, on the floor. She was perfectly backlit by a stage light, her body outlined, until she stepped back, becoming enveloped by color. I don’t have any photos of this, I was worried if I raised any device, the bodyguard would take it and crush it in one hand like a future evil robot would crush a human skull. So take my word for it when I tell you, this was the best view I’ve ever had for any concert. Seeing someone like that and seeing them play every note changes a lot about the way you see them and appreciate their music. And the show was fantastic. A great setlist featuring many songs beautifully rearranged to be performed solo. I was redeemed for missing my chance the first time. I may not have been able to go backstage, but I did get a brand new understanding for the person that had made me feel so much.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget my evening with Courtney Barnett. Or the eager (and truly dedicated) bodyguard, or the kind, short family behind me, with their reassuring dad. “We’re so jealous of you!” said the mother. You don’t know how my legs feel, I said. She laughed. Every concert should be in a small-town.

Photos by Will McLaughlin