The evening of August 7 might have been just another ordinary Thursday night had I not walked into The Met in Pawtucket. Stepping inside felt like being transported back in time to a jazz club or speakeasy from years past. Red and blue lights cast an intimate glow as audience members settled into the venue in fine suits and formal dresses. I’d never been to The Met, but it was clear this was a place where music history had been made, and Chalumeau was about to add another chapter to that anthology.
The crowd was a mix of local music enthusiasts, friends, family, and colleagues, but what immediately caught my attention was a group tucked off in a corner wearing bright red, sparkly outfits. They seemed to be celebrating something together, and my first thought was, “Maybe this is a bachelorette party?” Looking back, that assumption seems almost comically obvious in its wrongness, but in the moment, their presence added an air of intrigue to an evening that would prove full of surprises.
When Katherine Bergeron and Butch Rovan took the stage with their eight-piece ensemble — Casey Belisle on drums, Amato Zinno on bass, Bill Jette on rhythm guitar, Patrick Rourke and Richard Stanley on alto saxophone, Maureen Klaiber on background vocals, Katherine on lead vocals and keys, and Butch switching easily between lead guitar, alto and tenor saxophones, and clarinet — the room fell silent in anticipation.
They opened with “Homecoming,” performing their just-released album BLUE in order, and immediately established the evening’s emotional atmosphere. With sparse instrumentation highlighting Katherine’s commanding piano playing and lead vocals, the track’s themes of loneliness, loss, and heartbreak set a tone that was intimate and honest. Katherine’s stage presence during this opening number was magnetic, even more commanding than on the recordings, if that’s possible. She invited the audience to experience something deeply personal to her as a songwriter, yet relatable to many, from the very first chord.
What I loved about the performance was how each live arrangement stayed true to, yet reimagined, the studio versions I’d previously reviewed. The electronic elements in “No Common Ground” were thoughtfully replaced with acoustic choices that meshed with the group and actually enhanced the song’s impact. But it’s partly the physical experience of live music that imprints in one’s memory; how the bass drum’s resonance vibrates through your chest and soles of your feet in ways no recording can replicate. Katherine’s vocals pierced the air with beauty where appropriate, and bite where it was needed. The reedy vibration of Butch’s saxophone playing, embodying every stereotype of the effortlessly cool sax player as he moved fluidly between instruments, filled the space with a mellifluous timbre that can’t quite be captured on wax. The cooperation between Katherine and background vocalist Maureen Klaiber added a new layer, while the two alto saxophonists supporting Butch added rich harmonizations that delighted the listeners.
Katherine’s between-song introductions gave us a glimpse of her personality as well as her deep connection to the material. Before “No Common Ground,” she made indirect references to the current political climate, and everyone knew exactly what she meant without her having to spell it out explicitly. When preparing the audience for “La Vérité”, she asked if anyone spoke French, prompting enthusiastic shouts from the crowd in a moment that captured the evening’s blend of sophisticated musicianship and lightheartedness.
Two songs in particular invited the audience to become part of the show. “Candombe” got everyone to rise from their seats and dance, its infectious Latin-inspired groove proving Katherine’s earlier description true: “the happiest sad song you’ve probably ever heard.” The title track “Blue” hypnotized us with its interplay between Katherine’s vocals and a special guest cellist, creating an intimate moment that showcased Chalumeau’s ability to shift between sonic landscapes.
But one of my favorite moments came during the final song, “You Can Count On Me.” Note cards were distributed throughout the audience, inviting everyone to participate in singing the chorus. Katherine introduced the song by saying Butch would “lead us in prayer” with his rubato opening solo, and his saxophone playing was indeed transcendent, pensive, and possessed of a spiritual character I can’t quite put into words. This participatory moment transformed the audience from observers to collaborators, creating a communal experience that put a beautiful bow on an album exploring how we cope with loneliness and heartbreak through human connection.
Just when we thought the evening was complete, Katherine announced, “We’ve got a little surprise for you all.” That’s when those sparkly red outfits suddenly made sense. The group I’d mistaken for bachelorette party guests began picking up sousaphones, trumpets, and other instruments. The Extraordinary Rendition Band, PVD’s beloved street band of brass, reeds, and percussion, emerged from the audience like a musical clown car, roughly thirty musicians appearing from what seemed like nowhere.
The energy in the room exploded as they launched into an encore performance of “Candombe” with the full bravado of a brass band arrangement. As someone who spent time in a marching band and followed the great HBCU brass traditions, I was thrilled to hear this massive wall of sound. There’s something uniquely powerful about the collective voice of wind instruments, and hearing “Candombe” reimagined through this arrangement added yet another layer to Chalumeau’s unique approach to genre and ability to get a crowd moving.
After the final number, the celebration continued with a birthday cake for BLUE. People introduced themselves, discussed the show, and connected over shared experience. I briefly chatted with Katherine, who was still catching her breath from the marathon performance while graciously accepting congratulations from an endless stream of admirers.
This evening opposed a trend I’ve noticed in today’s musical landscape: listeners are experiencing albums maybe once or twice, and then latching onto a few of their favorite singles, rather than experiencing them as complete artistic statements. BLUE should be consumed as an entire journey, with each song’s placement carefully considered for pacing and emotional impact.
As Chalumeau themselves noted, “The Met is an incredible venue with a history going back to the original Lupo’s Heartbreak Hotel. It was an honor to release BLUE into that storied space — and doubly an honor to play with the fabulous musicians of the Chalumeau band. The energy was infectious. We can’t wait to do it again!” Butch and Katherine have been making music together for quite some time, and it comes across evidently that they really do love it.
That infectious energy speaks to why live music remains essential in our increasingly digital world. Recordings just aren’t the same as experiencing a live band that communicates with each other and adjusts in real-time, note cards that transform listeners into participants, or when a saxophone solo becomes a reflective prayer shared by an entire room. These are the experiences that remind us music isn’t just consumed in a vacuum, but that we create it together, in one shared breath; one perfectly imperfect moment at a time.
BLUE is available now, but if you get the chance to see Chalumeau perform live, jump on it. There are absolutely some things where “you just had to be there.”