First Impressions: Kaitlin Butts Live (12/14/24 @ the Vanguard, Tulsa, OK) by Kaitlin Butts

I stayed up much later than the norm last night thanks to a surprise release from country firecracker Kaitlin Butts—her concert in her hometown, Tulsa, on Dec. 14, 2024. It was the last night of her long-running Roadrunner! tour, which saw her and her crack band, the Mules, play just about every town and city under the sun but mine. Sharing the special night, which saw old friends (and her first boyfriend’s parents) in attendance, via a soundboard recording is a cool move, enabling those who did catch her to relive the experience and those of us who missed it to wish we’d had the cash to travel to see her. It’s a rollicking good time.

In studio or on stage, her sizzling vocals shoot high into the proverbial sky and explode into a multi-colored display one moment and cushion the soul like billowy cowboy pillows the next. That she has the songs to back up that talent makes it all the better. The 21-song set features songs from her Oklahoma!-inspired Roadrunner! album, which topped my year-end charts last year, a few heart-stopping tunes from her 2022 album, what else can she do, a spin on Patsy Cline’s “Walking After Midnight,” plus the Chicks’ “Sin Wagon” and Chappell Roan’s “Red Wine Supernova.” Her husband, Cleto Cordero of Flatland Cavalry, joins her to duet on the song that brought them together, “In a Life Where We Work Out.”

In between the songs, her infectious personality is on full display via engaging monologues—both serious and fun. One of my favorites occurs just prior to “Elsa,” which she explains was inspired by a resident at a nursing home that she regularly played during her college days. As someone who’s been a frequent visitor to such facilities (and dementia wards) through the years, I can attest to just how lively, sweet, funny and heartbreaking such places can be.

The setlist is below. (One clarification: “Cosmic Cowgirl” is actually “Marfa Lights.”)

The only downside is that the live show can only be purchased (for $18) and streamed from Bootleg, a new Nugs-like site that, at present, has just a smattering of concerts on offer. FYI: It’s best to first download the phone app, create an account through it, and then buy. I purchased the concert via my MacBook, clicking through a prompt and Apple Pay in seconds, assuming it worked akin to every other online music store I’ve frequented—I’d be presented with a zipped file to download once the payment went through. That’s when I discovered that it isn’t downloadable. It’ll live on Bootleg’s servers for as long as Bootleg exists—and then live no more. 

As a result, I jumped through hoops while figuring out how to sync the laptop purchase with the phone app, as I wasn’t prompted to create a password at any point. If you find yourself in a similar situation: everything is tied to your phone number. Request that the non-existent password be reset, create a new one, and then you’re good to go.

Last, while it sports a snappy design, there’s no FAQ or visible email address in the Bootleg app or website, which appears to be just the app ported to the web. I traded messages with its Instagram page via Kaitlin Butts’ announcement post; a yesteryear explanation for the streaming-only mode was proffered: “Because people are prone to post audio files on websites where anyone can download them without paying the artist, we’re reluctant to allow full downloads.” That I, and tens of thousands of other music fans, purchase downloads from Bandcamp, HDTracks, and Nugs, among other sites, never occurred to them. We’re not “edge” cases, as they said about me. We’re fans. They also, just as an aside, must live in a metro area home to reliable 5G/LTE, not a semi-rural region where dead zones pop up from time to time. (They claimed they’d work with me to gain access to the files if I DM’ed them, but never followed through.) 

All that said, the show itself is well worth the headache. Kaitlin’s voice is a thing of wonder, and her songs are imbued with three chords, the truth—and a theatrical flair. (The sound, too, is pristine—far better than the fan-shot video I embedded above.)

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