Great Friday: Homegrown 49 Winchester Reawakens High Energy Honky Tonkin’

Playing to a sold-out crowd nearly the same size as Castlewood, Virginia, where they grew up, 49 Winchester brought good ol’ fashioned honky tonkin’ to the 9:30 Club in Washington, DC,  last Friday, March 29th. Like the euphonious hiss of a Coors pop top and the tacky velcro of your boots on the dancefloor, 49 Winchester feels like 5:01 on Friday. If you can’t picture that, let them educate you. 

Idaho native Colby Acuff opened for 49 (as they refer to themselves) over the weekend. Getting a bargain with two trailblazing bands, the sold-out crowd knew exactly who they came to see, so they packed the house early to witness history with Acuff’s energetic and authentic performance. Acuff came on stage donning black overalls, a baseball cap, and a pair of well-worn boots. Swap overalls for waders, and it’s what I imagine he wore when he worked as a fly-fishing guide, as he shared with the crowd before singing “Dying Breed.” Fans were overjoyed and ready to sing along to the tune, which he explained was inspired by his daily routine to a gas station before work grabbing essentials like jerky, gatorade, and a breakfast sandwich from a friendly gas station clerk. 

Maybe it’s the altitude or maybe it’s the robust Idaho potatoes, but they don’t make ‘em like Colby around here. His high-energy set, personable and natural banter with the audience, and honest and prolific lyrics are what keep him as high as those Western white pines, way above his peers. Speaking of, he performed his song “Western White Pines,” the titular track from his 2023 album. Co-written by Lukas Nelson and Aaron Raitiere, Acuff penned the love letter for Idaho’s state tree, a totem of home that he takes with him to keep him rooted in the breeze. 

From silver chains to silver foxes, the crowd spanned ages and wages, but everyone there wanted the same thing: to let the music take over after a long week. The boys of 49 Winchester, Isaac Gibson on vocals and guitar, Bus Shelton on lead guitar, Chase Chafin on bass, and Noah Patrick on pedal steel, grew up together in southwestern Virginia. The band has also added Tim Hall on the keys and Justin Louthian on drums. 

Imagine being in a raft on a roaring river, riding rapids to the 65-foot waterfall, and falling peacefully into the basin below, 49 Winchester fulfills both the rush and relaxation that we crave. The 17-song set started with “Chemistry,” massive hit “Hays, Kansas,” and an ode to roadie life, “All I Need,” and the energy never stopped. Gibson’s nostalgic voice, melding the heartbreak of Willie Nelson with the downhome country boy vibe of Hank Williams, Jr., gives us everything we need. I could listen to him at breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and with songs like “The Road Home” “So Damn Sweet,” and “Everlasting Lover,” I’d say dessert too. 

49 Winchester is earnest about where they came from and surefooted in where they're going–which is clearly in the record books. Their lyrics are a candid commentary on growing up in Appalachia, trying to make it on the road, and the crippling malaise of daily living and heartache. The band can simultaneously capture raw emotion while seamlessly injecting levity to round out the human experience using the healing nature of music. In “Why Else Would I Call You?” Gibson, as the band’s main songwriter, writes about that dreaded lapse in judgment when reaching out to an ex but comes back to his senses with: “Figured I'd call you, see how you've been…/You could tell that I'd been drinkin' again/ Why else would I call you? Do you think I'm that stupid?” Like Wheeler Walker, Jr.’s oftentimes explicit yet brutally honest lyrics, 49 knows how to set the mood and whack you over the head with the brutal truth of things. In “Hays, Kansas,” the simplicity of “All there is, is an auto parts and a mall in this town/ And there's no way of knowing/ Ooh, where in the world that I am,” brings the sameness, solitude, and sorrow of small towns to the forefront. 

They premiered a few new songs during the night, including “Tulsa” and “Yearning for You,” which, while we couldn’t sing along, our bodies still knew what to do. The precisely yet naturally woven tapestry of 49 Winchester is twisted with the bespoke fibers of each member, and their inimitable stage presence is addictive. I’ve already cross-referenced their tour schedule to my calendar, as any true (and sane) fan would do. 

At the church of 49 Winchester, their tent revival services will heal your nine-to-five woes. As deep as the river and as crisp as the thawing creeks, Gibson’s voice and masterful, poignant lyricism will baptize you while the band’s supernova magnetism and spirited sessions will ignite your two-steppin’ spark once again. Leaving the DC dancehall that night, I was quickly thrown out of the honky-tonk and back to the honky talk from the rushed and riled city folk. Take me with you, 49!