Last night at the Rieder Homestead in Delano, MN, Humbird (the musical project of Siri Undlin) spun a concert that felt less like a performance and more like stepping into a living fairytale beneath the branches of an enchanted wood.
The evening opened with “Pharmakon”, a song that has shapeshifted from its original album recording. The performance felt like something wild and alive, growing like ivy across the years. Humbird’s performance of “Right On” had also been reworked, reminding us that Siri treats her songs as living creatures that are breathing, evolving, and never finished.
But the magic wasn’t all sweetness. Before “Child of Violence,” Siri paused to dedicate the song to the victims of the recent mass shooting at Annunciation Church in Minneapolis. She spoke about the persistence of white supremacy in our culture and urged us all to be better, to do better. The song became a spell of reckoning.
The first half of the set ended in something otherworldly with Siri performing an Irish poem, “I Am Stretched on Your Grave.” As Humbird sang, Pat Keen (bass and keys) and Nate LeBrun (percussion) conjured an impromptu soundscape that shimmered and cracked with an almost full moon filtering through the trees above.
The second half of the evening started with two newer songs. “Hey Big Dipper” took on the subject of depression and the optimistic hope of “doing better on this flying rock.” Humbird also played some of her short musical vignettes that always feel like tiny spells giving us glimpses into bigger feelings.
Hearing Humbird’s two Billy Joel covers: “Vienna” and “And So It Goes” was another magical surprise. The latter became on the nights most memorable moments for me. Siri’s voice, silken and still, woven with Pat’s soft bass, held the trees in quiet stillness.
The night closed with “Song for the Seeds.” For me, hearing it live for the first time carried an extra shimmer as my daughter’s name is Clover. The song continues to feel like a lullaby written for her and for all the small seeds of hope we carry into the world.
Under the soft night sky at the Homestead, Humbird reminded us that songs are living things, and when tended with such care, they can bloom into something both timeless and urgently alive.
