Coyote Grace charmed the crowd at the CoHo on Wednesday night, speaking up for the queer community and sharing the gift of their lives and their music with a bewitched audience. The folk duo from the Bay, comprised of Joe Stevens and Ingrid Elizabeth, came to perform their first gig at Stanford.
The two stood quietly on the stage at the CoHo, their presence alone gathering attention and quieting the crowd. Stevens’ fingers danced absentmindedly across his banjo, as Elizabeth stood with her lips near the microphone, her curly red hair pinned back with a flower, and her eyelids painted with glitter. After introducing their first song, with which, Elizabeth informed us, they open every show, her foot began to stomp a beat. Two enchanting voices – one smooth and low, the other soulfully pretty – blended together and filled the CoHo with a bluesy but warm ballad.
By the second song, the beautiful pair had enchanted all ears and eyes in the CoHo, and the only background sounds that remained were the cappuccino machines and quiet calls of order numbers from the kitchen. As Stevens switched to a guitar and Elizabeth to an upright bass, Elizabeth excitedly mentioned that this was the best turnout Coyote Grace had seen at a college coffeehouse. Throughout the hour-long set, Elizabeth’s charming interjections and Stevens’ honest insight transformed the performance into something more intimate than a set of songs. Coyote Grace’s lyrics alone achieve a level of simultaneously poetic and unapologetic truth, sliding across the scale of emotions from tender to awkward, from isolated to loved.
The story behind handsome Stevens’ low and sexy voice is even more intriguing – Stevens is a transman, having made the switch from female to male six years ago. Today, with a scruffy beard and deep voice, you couldn’t tell unless he told you, but the journey he’s taken to get here has been a long and trying one that informs several of the duo’s songs.
Coyote Grace also tossed a few covers into their set, including a seductive rendition of the Springsteen classic “I’m on Fire.” Perhaps the most impactful song of the night was one written on the road in Laramie, Wyo., for Matthew Shephard, 10 years after his murder. “It could’ve been you, it could’ve been me/In Laramie,” they sang out sadly, as the girl beside me wiped tears from beneath her glasses. Elizabeth had set a somber tone before the song, informing us that 50 percent of the trans community will lose their life by brutality or their own hand. The duo’s insight transcended queer issues and reached out to the universal themes of love and transition.
“Love hurts,” Stevens spoke wisely, introducing their next song, “no matter whom it is you love.” My personal favorite of the night was a song written by Elizabeth, a song as cute and quirky as its singers. As Elizabeth plucked away at a small guitar, Jack Johnson-style, she sang an adorably raunchy and fiercely catchy tune about stalking a cutie at a coffee shop, smiling the whole time. The duo ended the night with a straight set of four gorgeous songs, their chemistry undeniable.
As the last song ended, Elizabeth and Stevens graciously thanked the audience, and the audience’s applause confirmed the evening as a glowing success.