The White Buffalo (photo: Erin Ball)
The White Buffalo can be all things to everyone. He’s a sensitive outlaw poet who looks like if Yukon Cornelius joined a motorcycle gang, singing songs made up of equal parts killing and longing. His tales of murder and his pleas for redemption make him an easy-to-root-for hero and his desperately lovesick cries of affection make him seem like the most passionate and legendary of lovers. Really, there’s something for everyone in the White Buffalo’s music, and his range was on full display last night in Victoria, BC.
As the Buffalo started his hour-and-half long solo set with the haunting “The Getaway,” I heard a lady behind me say, “I’m so pumped right now I could cry,” and while I thought that was strange for such a quiet, understated song, it wasn’t hard to understand why. It doesn’t matter if he’s singing a slow song or a fast one, a love song or a murder ballad, the fire and passion in the Buffalo’s eyes when he’s on stage is alarming and impossible to look away from. It sets him apart from so many other beardos with guitars, well, that and his spectacular songwriting and wearily rumbling voice.
It’s not like the dude was up there singing bummers the whole time either. “B.B. Guns & Dirtbikes,” a song about growing up recklessly with his brother, and “How the West Was Won,” a song about, well, vengeful murder, are genuinely fun songs that had people dancing with lots of energy for a Monday night.
Those slower songs like “Black & Blue,” while supremely engaging, gave the audience a chance to shine in its full contradictory splendour. There was a lot of liquor flowing and when the Buffalo took the time to slow down and pour his heart out, the crowd was torn between talking to their neighbours very loudly and singing along off key at the top of their lungs. I much preferred the latter.
I’ve seen countless dudes with their guitars, they tend to bleed together after awhile. The White Buffalo, for all the reasons I’ve mentioned and more that I haven’t, is one of those special ones who can fill up a bar on a Monday night with a crowd made up of people who don’t look like they fit together in any way.
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