Hardworking Singer Songwriter Martin Sexton Wins Over Lewisburg, West Virginia Audience

Journeyman Musician Martin Sexton on his Mixtape of 
the Open Road Tour

When incredibly gifted musician Martin Sexton walked out from behind the thick red velvet curtains of the Carnegie Library Auditorium in Lewisburg, WV recently, he faced a very different room than he was used to playing.

Sexton is not a superstar and does not play the big venues. He is a hard working journeyman singer songwriter who does, however, regularly sell out big city medium-sized music venues like LA’s House of Blues and New York’s Nokia Theater with devoted followers who know his tunes, sing along with complex choruses, and thoroughly enjoy every note the unique Sexton issues.

Carnegie Hall, Lewisburg, WV

Things were different in Lewisburg, the clean artsy little West Virginia place that won designation as “coolest town in America” a few years back. Carnegie Hall, namesake of the steel baron who financed its construction in 1902, seats about 200 people. It is a sturdy distinguished red brick facility with high white columns out front. A luscious green lawn welcomes visitors and a very old cemetery sits spookily across the street.

Cozy Carnegie Hall Auditorium

Carnegie Hall’s auditorium seats and isles are wide and comfortable and the back row, at most, is only about 20 yards away from the stage. You could call it an intimate room.

The people who attend concerts at the venerable old library are justifiably proud of their town, their venue and their long history of attracting and supporting quality concerts. They go to every performance season’s worth of shows whether they know the musician or not. Past concerts over the years have featured artists like Judy Collins, Wynton Marsalis, Doc Watson, the Preservation Hall Jazz Band, Arlo Guthrie, Isaac Stern, Asleep at the Wheel, Harry Belafonte and many more.

The audience for Sexton’s Lewisburg concert had a few die-hard fans—one man said he had traveled all the way from Atlanta—but by and large it was a polite older audience of men and women who came out to see the nice young man give his concert because it was the right thing to do. At about $30 a ticket, the right thing was certainly doable.

“I don’t know Martin Sexton,” remarked one older lady who used a cane and ambled slowly to her seat about 10 rows back. “What type of music does he play?”

The first two songs in his opening set featured sweet melodic yodeling in a distinctive falsetto before he smoothly shifted into a deep baritone. His versatility, touching lyrics and showmanship were on full display. Uniquely, Sexton can duplicate the sound of a muted trumpet, penny whistle, or even a trombone and did so often to accentuate the melodies of many of his songs. The audience took notice.

As the show went on, Sexton, whose songs were heard on TV shows like “Scrubs” and “Parenthood,” struggled to get his audience involved as he attempted to teach them lines to sing along. They just couldn’t get the hang of it. When it was the audience’s turn to sing a chorus on a Sexton song that most of his other audiences embraced and belted out with enthusiasm, all they could muster was a shy, whispery, uncertain attempt that made the room feel awkward.

Sexton is such a talented singer and guitarist blending so many genres of music like soul, gospel, country, rock, blues and R&B that he seemed adrift in a sea of music. A Boston Globe reviewer once wrote that “Martin Sexton is ripe with raw, expansive talent. His voice comes in a hundred impossible shades. His songs are sweet and spirited and soulful. His repertoire is like a cross-country tour of the American musical vernacular.” That was all on display that night in Lewisburg.

He knew so many songs that you never knew where he was headed. He floated from song to song—some he had written and some were covers of other artists. He gave the impression that with the exception of the songs from his new album that he needed to promote—Mixtape of the Open Road—he didn’t know for sure what his show would include or in what order he would play them.

He was in the middle of one of his own songs when he joked with the audience that he thought it sounded like the theme from the old TV show “I Dream of Jennie” and he smoothly worked in a few measures of the TV tune in the middle of the song just to prove it. Another time, he drifted into a chorus of a well-known U2 song and then noted, “that’s the first time on this tour that I sang that part and the audience didn’t sing along with me.”

A Sexton loyalist in the audience responded with a shout: “Aww…Sorry man!”

Later, he picked at his guitar and struggled to recall the opening lines of one of his own songs. “What the heck,” he finally said with a shrug of his shoulders. “I’ll just play a Prince song.” Then he launched into an attention-grabbing version of “Rapsberry Beret,”

Another time, he told the sound man to “give me some West Virginia reverb” and the country-like song he sang sounded like something you would have heard on an AM country music radio station in 1962. He played Texas be-bop, belted out Kansas City Blues, crooned love ballads and sang rock and roll with equal precision occasionally employing the “beatboxing” and “scat singing” he is known for.

His artistry on the guitar was equally impressive. He made his guitar—a Godin model A6—rumble, whine, and sing, and played bass lines with the thumb of his left hand at the same time that he manipulated cords with his other fingers. At other times, by tapping, rubbing and pounding on his electric guitar at different places with different intensities, he duplicated the sounds of bass and snare drums and vocally added symbol sounds with his lips up against the microphone.

Between songs, he bantered with his audience and offered insights about what it was like to spend so much time on the road. He talked about being the tenth child of Irish-American working class parents, and the strain of leaving his young son at home when it was time to hit the road. He talked about the value of failure—like the time he attempted to pursue a real estate career in his hometown of Syracuse, New York. He expressed gratitude for the “home made dinner” he had back stage just before the show.

It was certain that his hard work was winning over the audience slowly but surely just like he did when he started his career busking as a street performer in Harvard Square 30 years ago. They didn’t know what to make of him but they were headed his direction. The older lady with the cane applauded loudly after every song overcoming her hesitant early reaction.

Another unique feature of a concert at Lewisburg’s Carnegie Hall is a reception that the Library holds in conjunction with every show in a little room off to one side of the auditorium they call “The Mainstage Lounge.” For $5, you can mingle with the locals, graze at a finger food table and have a beer or a glass of wine. That’s where you can also overhear what the audience is saying about the show. The intermission crowd had nice things to say about Sexton. But, they also wanted to talk about the weather, politics, and how nice the Indian tee pee displays were outside on the Library lawn.

At the end of the evening, they gave Sexton a nice warm round of appreciative applause and were enthusiastic about his encore reappearance that included a patriotic touch with his version of “America.”

It might not have been the most energetic, adrenalin-pumping, artist-fueling audience that Martin Sexton will ever see, but it was a sincere and polite Lewisburg crowd that sent him off into the chilly West Virginia spring night for one more show somewhere far away.