Folk Duo - The Milk Carton Kids: Live at Webster Hall in New York City

Article and photographs by Addison Lawrence

As I entered Webster Hall on September 23rd to see what I knew to be a folk duo from Los Angeles, I was advised by the staff at the doors to “be careful in the mosh pits.” I instinctively thanked the staff and walked in before realizing the absurdity of the comment, given that folk bands typically don’t call for moshing, and thought to myself - “Am I at the right show?” I double checked, then triple checked the ticket while proceeding up the stairs, where I found a stage set up with just one microphone and some guitars. This would turn out to be the first of many instances during the show where Kenneth Pattengale and Joey Ryan, or “The Milk Carton Kids” were to juxtapose their earnest, bluesy discography with their charming, lively humor.

Since forming in 2011, The Milk Carton Kids have released six albums, received four grammy nominations, founded the Los Angeles Folk Festival, and even started the Sad Songs Summer Camp music-based retreat. Throughout all their success, though, they have somehow remained as humble as ever in their rejection of excess, walking on stage bearing nothing but some sharp suits and polished guitars.

From the beginning of the set to the end, and to the delight of the audience, The Milk Carton Kids were somehow able to mix meaningful anecdotes with the kind of punchlines that’ll make you grab your stomach all within a 90 minute folk concert. At one point in the performance, before playing “Memoirs of an Owned Dog,” Ryan told the story of how the pair met. He explained that the song they were about to play was the same song that Pattengale had been playing when they met at his show in 2009. Ryan could hardly finish before stopping himself to remark on how his story sounded like a love story, which resulted in a round of laughter from the audience.

Later on the pair brought out Paper Wings, who had opened up the night earlier on. Now with the addition of a third guitar and a fiddle, Ryan and Pattengale - accompanied by Emily Mann and Wila Frank - sang crowd favorites like “A Friend like You” and “I’ll Go Home From Here.”

What went down at Webster Hall that night was nothing short of sublime. In the crowd, it felt as though I was sitting at the dinner table in a low warm light, surrounded by relatives as we listened to stories of love and loss. The tales Ryan and Pattengale told had the same effect as a cup of coffee in the cold, fostering a true sense of warmness in mine and the crowds' hearts. Everyone who came to the show got much more than they came for, and the duo truly made themselves into a safe haven for music at its most pure form in a world plagued with chaos and noise.

Before singing the title track of their most recent album, “ Lost Cause Lover Fool,” Ryan talked about his feelings regarding the album’s name. He explained his issue with the lack of grammar provided in the title before embarking down a satirical rabbit hole surrounding his twelve year old son’s passion for grammar and his subsequent lack of friends. He finished out the banter stating that he likes to think of the title in a more slang connotation, claiming that it’s actually saying “Lost Cause Lover, Fool!” As someone who has attended a large number of concerts, I can confidently say that I’ve never laughed more at a show, and it’s safe to say that I surely wasn’t the only person laughing.

When it was time for the encore, Ryan and Pattengale requested that the giant disco ball be lit up for the last couple songs. After a few seconds, the giant orb of mirrors filled the entire room with streaks of light, and everyone looked around in awe as the duo played their final songs. At the end of their performance, the pair joined arms and bowed together before leaving the stage.

The Milk Carton Kids didn't need pyrotechnics or a full band to make their show memorable. In fact, the lack of equipment made the show all the more special. It felt as though everyone in the room was leaning into the same, lone microphone, and you could hear the strumming of the guitars from the instruments themselves. Ryan and Pattengale completely changed my view on folk concerts, and although there were no mosh pits in the end, I’d certainly go back to see them anytime I get the chance.