Strawberry Hands, Early Worm, Michael Cormier-O'Leary / Margaux Bouchegnies duo
Abyssinia
229 S 45th St.
Philadelphia
Nov. 1, 2026
Between gaining an hour and Halloween festivities it was early to bed for me, to catch up on rest, as soon as this gig was over – I’d like to propose a years-long moratorium on Halloween falling on a weekend, it’s just too much – but this show was absolutely worth it, especially for a marvelous set from New York’s Early Worm, currently on tour. Early Worm – comprised of Liam Hastings (double bass, vocals), Henry Nelson (electric guitar, voice), Will Curry (saxophone and clarinet) and Noah Nelson (drums) – is a young band, with only a couple EPs in a few years of existence, but they don’t show it, sounding as an ensemble like a true mind-meld of experience and togetherness, with an innate sense of rhythm and dynamics that complements the narrative thrust of their songs.
They began with a suite-like set of three songs with no break for applause; in the middle was “Johnny Walter,” one of my favorite tracks from September’s EW.EP2 EP. The song portrays the relationship between brothers Johnny and Charlie Walter – “Johnny Walter is my name / I turned 61 today, yes I did / My brother’s gonna come up from Dayton… / Me and him been gettin’ close,” it began, Henry Nelson singing over a rolling bed of amiable fingerpicked chords in G, the lightly-brushed, brisk drums and major-pentatonic bass ostinato carrying the narrative along; in a sense, not much happens in the song plot-wise – the brothers clean out their dad’s old room, Johnny gets drunk and falls “asleep for half the game,” – but for me, the song becomes something truly special when Johnny confesses:
And I been talking in my sleep
Like a kid
It ain’t the valium or the weed, I think it's him
He brings something out in me
Nelson leapt up for a high note on the word “him” that told the whole story right there, mirroring the unavoidable catch in your throat you get when the past rushes back in. This relatively straightforward song, filled with suggestion and pathos, was a highlight of a set filled with them. “Giant,” a six-minute song built off of an addictive G6 bass arpeggio in 7/4, was every bit as enveloping as the giant’s grip it depicts. Hastings’ delicate singing and the band’s perfectly-swinging rhythmic interplay moved with strength and poise, blending with gentle gusts of clarinet and the light-rain-esque pitter-patter of drums, dividing up the scenery. The group played with a laid-back dynamic touch, music that was both toe-tapping and compellingly loose and impressionistic with time, vocals soft, quiet and not urgent, yet totally intriguing; Curry rounded out the arrangements with deliberate, lyrical solo turns on woodwinds. Early Worm’s already got a beautiful thing going, both in their chamber-jazz instrumental palette and the songs they’re conjuring; I’m looking forward to seeing where they take it.
Also worth noting was a stellar opening set from Michael Cormier-O’Leary and Margaux Bouchegnies (guitars and singing). In addition to leading the mostly-instrumental ensemble Hour, playing drums in Friendship and 2nd Grade, and co-running Dear Life Records (among many other endeavors), Cormier-O’Leary releases solo music under his name, and took this occasion to play a batch of mostly new and unreleased songs. One exception was “Marilyn,” the opening track from his February EP Proof Enough, which, in this skeletal live arrangement, highlighted Cormier-O’Leary’s playful and occasionally twisted sense of harmony; the song begins plaintively enough and then cartwheels into what I like to call one of those crazy spooky Willy Wonka tunnel chords. I looked around the room and noticed at least one other music dork making that face music dorks make when something is deliciously weird. A good note to leave Halloween behind on.
