Cassandra Jenkins in Carrboro, 3/27/25

If time is a construct, as some theoretical physicists suggest, what then of last night? Would it be appropriate to say that the clock stopped on the delta of the stage in the Cat’s Cradle Back Room in Carrboro, NC, while Cassandra Jenkins and band played? Could I claim the audience swayed like gentle waves in the vast ocean that is time? Or was the ocean actually a pond and the observed waves little more than ripples? It depends on perception, I suppose.

For those of us in the room, however, it’s safe to say that Jenkins and Co. wove a wondrous 70-minute set that emphasized selections from her My Light, My Destroyer and An Overview on Phenomenal Nature albums, with only “Halley” stemming from the before-times. She opened with the stirring “Devotion,” about faith, faithlessness and more, and continued with “Aurora, IL,” which found us floating above the exosphere. “Omakase” entered the solar system as if an asteroid or meteor, while “Only One”—which, like a few other songs, was supplemented by off-stage loops and recordings—was as lush and heartbreaking as it is on album. “Delphinium Blue,” inspired by her pressured stint working in a flower shop, was delightfully spacey, and “Petco” returned us to Earth via its crunchy guitars.

At that point, the set shifted to her older songs, largely inspired by the passing of David Berman. “Hard Drive” upped the contemplative ante but also brought the night’s biggest disappointment—her feather-soft vocals, at least from my location in the small balcony, were unfortunately lost beneath the martial beat of the Noah Hecht’s drums. The same wasn’t true for the guitar-heavy “Clams Casino,” thankfully, which rolled to shore like a tidal wave. After a brief respite, Jenkins returned to perform the acoustic “Halley” before ending the night with the contemplative “Crosshairs.”

I was unfamiliar with the opening act, Merce Lemon, but enjoyed her 40-minute set enough to have added her last album, Watch Me Drive Them Dogs Wild, to my queue. Live, her songs possess an Americana lilt—a distinct Gram Parsons vibe wafts through quite a few. She was also, as the picture shows, backed by a band; guitarist Reid Magette went to town on some songs. (You might say that it was an overview on the phenomenal nature of a well-placed solo.) The only downside: Some of the subtleties of the music was drowned out by the loudness. It was as if, just before hitting the stage, someone twisted the volume nob to 11.