$35.00
Wed, May 14, 2025
Doors: 6:30 pm
The Atlantis
Washington, DC
Tickets are non-transferable until 72 hours prior to the show time. Any tickets suspected of being purchased for the sole purpose of reselling can be cancelled at the discretion of The Atlantis / Ticketmaster, and buyers may be denied future ticket purchases for I.M.P. shows. Opening acts, door times, and set times are always subject to change.
Hamilton Leithauser, the hard-hitting, Carlyle-crooning frontman of The Walkmen, has worked the last eight years in the heart of Bedford Stuyvesant, writing and recording his new breakthrough solo record, This Side of the Island. Known for his evocative lyricism, quick wit, and distinctive voice, Leithauser has been a significant force in rock ‘n’ roll since the early 2000s NYC scene, transitioning smoothly from his band’s successes to a flourishing solo career. This Side of the Island boldly turns away from the folk-rockvibes of his two previous records I Had a Dream That You Were Mine and The Loves of Your Life; and introduces a groovier, bass-heavy, modern sound—a sound undoubtedly influenced by several decades of music: Sly Stone’s There’s a Riot Goin’ On, Talking Heads’ Fear of Music, SZA’s SOS, Funkadelic’s Maggot Brain, Randy Newman’s Trouble in Paradise, Prince’s Parade, Panda Bear’s Panda Bear Meets the Grim Reaper, and Neil Young’s On the Beach (to name a few).
Hamilton loves working on his own schedule at his home studio, The Struggle Hut, but after eight years of playing myriad instruments, a visit to his old friend Aaron Dessner’s upstate Long Pond Studio in the Spring of 2024 is what finally brought the album home. (Leithauser and Dessner originally met when the National opened for the Walkmen in 2001). Dessner, renowned for his work with The National, Taylor Swift, and Gracie Abrams (among many others), introduced an enormous modern sound, and played many different instruments on nearly every track. Leithauser says Dessner “raised the ceiling, and lowered the floor on the whole thing,” expanding the record’s emotional and sonic depth. The collaboration resulted in a record that is both timeless and contemporary, cementing both as versatile and enduring artists in contemporary music.
“It took me eight years to make this,” Hamilton says, “Longer than any other record I’ve ever worked on. Barack Obama was president when I started “Fist of Flowers”! So much in my life has changed since I started—my daughters grew, I lost a lot of friends, and I lost my mother…and it seems like the whole world’s been turned upside down—I live a very different life now, but I still truly love writing, recording, and performing music.”
The lyrics on This Side of the Island showcase Hamilton’s unrelenting optimism and biting humor and as they consider heavy themes of solitude, love, loss, and resilience. Inspired by events in Hamilton’s personal life, the songs resonate deeply both in today’s polarized social and political world, as the title track says “It’s not a beautiful country/as much as I’d like it to be”. “What do I know?” “What do I know?” “What do I know?” “What do I know?” —emphasize any word in that title and you’ll change the meaning. Kind of silly questions…until you start digging in. “When the singer burns her torch/no she will not be ignored, and I love her pain, and her pride and her shame/but what do I love now?” he asks himself.
“Ocean Roar” opens with Hamilton and his late friend Richard Swift smoking cigars in a
rental car on Wilshire boulevard, running through a churchyard in Montreal on LSD, and ends fifteen years later in Bedford Stuyvesant on Hamilton’s 40th birthday; capturing the passage of time and the permanence of loss “Down the flames go dancing into the cake/I wish you’d cuss and fuss with us today”. It’s not sentimental, it’s reality. “Knockin’ Heart” presents a determined, stoned, estranged lover dying to send a message: “From the barnyard to the bullfight/from the bleachers to the spotlight/from the factory to the junkyard/you’ll be knockin’ in my heart!!” In “Off the Beach”, the narrator recounts a series of failed marriages, but ends with the forlorned-yet-optimistic “it gets easier every time”. Both “Burn the Boats”, and album-opener “Fist of Flowers” offer undying-but-maybe-naive longings for nearby-but-maybe-unreachable people. Hamilton is routing for these people because he loves their passion, their determination, and their flaws; even if he might not see a happy ending (yet). At the end of the record, rather than presenting a resolution, or a lesson learned, he leaves us with something he does know…a simple, relatable emotion at full throttle: “I just want you to love me the way I love you”.
When Greg Freeman quietly released his debut album I Looked Out in 2022, it was immediately clear to the small community who heard it that the Vermont songwriter captured something intangibly exciting and distinctly American. Across 10 explosive songs that meld knotty indie rock with pastoral twang, he sings with a zealous urgency of shipwrecks, biblical visions, doomed drifters, dams breaking, and lives left in rearview mirrors. His evocative writing paints a world where revelation or ruin is behind every corner but it always leaves room for hope and human connection. A resoundingly confident LP, it’s a testament to Burlington’s vibrant music community and the pure magic of opening yourself up to creative risks and collaboration.
Now, for the first time, I Looked Out has been pressed to vinyl. Out digitally on Nov. 20 and on vinyl Jan. 17 via Canvasback/Transgressive, two bonus tracks are also available. On the digital release, there’s an acoustic duet version of “Long Distance Driver” with Merce Lemon, and on the vinyl, there’s the noisy sound collage “Sound Tests, Scraps, Lists.” Greg Freeman will release new music and this album’s full-length follow-up in 2025.
Though I Looked Out arrived seemingly fully formed, the album is the product of a transitional period for Freeman. When he started writing its songs in 2020, he graduated from the University of Vermont studying religion and anthropology. Unsure of what to do next, he worked in museums, was a bread baker, and even had a stint as a cemetery groundskeeper. While he’d played in bands around Burlington, namely with Lily Seabird and the experimental rock outfit Rockin’ Worms, his own music was sparse and solo. “Before I Looked Out, I had just done everything myself: recording a lot of layered guitars and layered vocals,” he says. With that year’s societal upheaval leading to an abundance of alone time, Freeman decided to double down on writing. He soon came out of isolation with two finished songs: “Long Distance Driver” and “Colorado.”
“Long Distance Driver” is a woozy, minor key dirge that finds Freeman’s voice somewhere between a croak and a coo. He sings, “I don’t care where you’ve been / I just want you to smile / Or at least pretend.” It’s a dark and near-menacing tune that highlights Freeman’s propensity for vivid, lyrical world-building. “That song came out of a year where I was just writing without any pressure,” he says. “I didn’t even know if I was going to record it.” Eventually, Freeman decided to try something he’d never done before: bring on a cast of collaborators.
While recording I Looked Out, Freeman and his co-producer Noah Kesey were content just to see where the creative process took them. “The most defining thing about the creation of that record is that we didn’t really try to do anything with it,” says Freeman. “There was no specific intention with how we were going to put it out, or timeline, or even how it was going to sound.” Instead, they leaned on welcome surprises and happy accidents. Take the thundering “Colorado,” which bursts through with a careening, overwhelming energy. Inspired by maximalist production on Leonard Cohen’s Death of a Ladies Man, Freeman wanted to stack the song with as many instruments and players as possible: strings, horns, keys, etc. The result is a cathartic and chaotic orchestra that never veers off track. The experiment paid off. “It’s so hard to convince yourself that you’re writing a record, but then you have one song you really believe in so it helps you get to that place,” he says. “‘Colorado’” is definitely that song for me.”
With that north star guiding the process, the experiments didn’t stop. The propulsive squall that ignites “Connect to Host” came out of a jam from a discarded tune, repurposed with tape warble, roaring guitars, and barreling drums from Zack James (Dari Bay). “Towers” simmers with a roiling intensity that eventually rips apart at the seams: strings clashing with the blistering, feedback-laden guitars. Elsewhere, closer “Palms” boasts biblical imagery taken from Freeman’s studies of Christian mysticism, heretics, and prophets. At times, it feels apocalyptic but he yelps, “If it’s not the end of it all / It must be a strange kind of grace” before soothing pedal steel and guitars stumble on a sense of closure. The through line of I Looked Out is how he resonantly balances interpersonal struggle with global calamity, raising the emotional stakes while holding a mirror to the self and society.
Following its release, which had no PR campaign, label, or music industry promo, it still received raves from Stereogum and Uproxx. Since then, Freeman’s toured relentlessly with a backing band featuring bassist Lily Seabird, multi-instrumentalist Cam Gilmour, pedal steel player Ben Rodgers, and drummer Scott Maynard. While many of those players also guest on the album, the palpable and expansive energy of their live show has found Freeman sharing the stage with A. Savage, Empty Country, Florry, and Sadurn. “The music scene is so good in Burlington that it didn’t feel like I was doing anything remarkable with I Looked Out because everybody had great bands there,” says Freeman. “You gotta try a little bit harder in this city.”
Venue Information:
The Atlantis
2047 9th St NW
Washington, DC, 20001
https://theatlantis.com/