Hidden away in little basements across the nation’s capital, there exists a world of music waiting to be discovered. 

On this particular evening, a hearty crowd was gathered at Union Stage, watching a facade painted to look like an old-timey circus tent. A folksy trill erupted through the venue before a man dressed in suspenders, a bright pearl snap and a large plaid jacket containing all the colors of the rainbow ran through the curtains of the set. 

Willi Carlisle had taken the stage. He held a banjo and was followed by a group of various musicians wearing matching red and white striped overalls. Carlisle called out to the audience, inviting us to join him in a night of joy and folk silliness, remarking that, “We should all feel stupid by the end of the night.” 

With that, he started his 90-minute set filled to the brim with lyrics about queer identity, the human condition and loving your neighbors. 

With each song, there would be a new instrument– ones I hadn’t even heard of before– guitars and banjos, percussion bones and tap shoes, harmonicas and saxophones, mandolins and fiddles, concertinas and even a 100-year-old accordion. 

The “Winged Victory” album Carlisle had released earlier this year was the main portion of the night’s setlist, interspersed with a diverse mix of songs off all his previous albums. 

The crowd was electric as we sang along to the 200-year-old folk song, “We Have Fed You All for 1000 Years.” As the sound of the fiddle cut through the air, a large papier-mache king came running into the audience. We booed this robber baron together. The people against the man. 

About halfway through his set, the lights dimmed further, and a small light illuminated through the opening he had previously entered the stage. 

The curtain had been replaced by a shadow puppet show that scrolled through a scene to accompany ‘The Cottonwood Tree,’ illustrating the pain of growing up in a world that isn’t made for you. This puppet show transitioned into the solo set in which Carlisle continued with some more of his somber songs.

However, the mood didn’t stay down for long. The backup dancers jumped out to sing “Big Butt Billy,” and the audience erupted with laughter at each quirky line and note of the absurd talking blues song about nonbinary people and large butts.

The set rounded out with Carlisle’s biggest hits. When “Critterland” started, yet another large papier-mache character entered. This time, the audience cheered on the possum that danced through the crowd. 

Ending with “The Heart’s a Big Tent,” he had the audience participate in the call and response chorus. The whole crowd yelled the lyrics in an outpouring of love for all people in the world. “The heart’s a big tent, gotta let everybody in.”

Between the eccentric folk music, comedic bits, and borderline theatrical performances, Willi Carlisle’s shows are one of the greatest joys someone can indulge in. It’s a place to let loose and find a community of people who radiate a contagious love throughout the whole venue. The kind of love we as humans need in this age of detachment.