Erik Rabasca
Winter Blues Concert Series
State House Square Food Court
Hartford
March 11, 2026
Every once in a while, an artist surprises you with a display of vulnerability that you weren’t expecting.
Erik Rabasca’s set for the ongoing Winter Blues concert series at the State House Square Food Court did that for me.
Rabasca has a distinctly country vibe, minus the depressing content. His music is upbeat and joyful, reminiscing about good times and promising that more are still to come.
For example, Rabasca’s song “First Time Before” is an ode to the first time that one truly finds love in another, and the way that emotion is renewed through new acts of caring. Other songs approach the “first time” as a bittersweet event, where everything was perfect for a moment that can never be recaptured again. Instead, Rabasca sings about how the affection of his beloved reenergizes him, and creates a first time, every time:
Well every loss has led to this, every slight has been endured
But you’ve been there for every step, keeping me reassured
That you love me, no matter what, that I’m truly adored
In your arms, my heart opens, like that first time before
I was enjoying his music, and figured the set would be more of the same kind of highly polished, well-practiced production that he was showing the crowd.
Then, about halfway through his set, Rabasca began to play a song that he hadn’t finished yet. He said he’d been working on it for a while and was going to give it a shot. After about a minute of playing the guitar, a false start and some strewn- together lyrics, Rabasca ended the song with a smile.
“The vibes were good, so I figured I’d go for it,” he said. I loved it.
No one reads my first drafts, not even my editor. By the time I send in my copy, it’s about 90 percent of what I started with (on a good day). But I’ve fawned and fretted over the 10 percent that has changed, adding and deleting words, switching paragraph order. When I submit, I want to maintain the pretense of professionalism: Here it is, 500 words of pure gold; just click publish. Of course, it never is that, and that’s precisely why we have editors. It feels good to think that I’ve achieved perfection, though.
So I can’t imagine the moment of unsureness, of straight-up fear, that Rabasca had to feel when he started singing a song that even he didn’t know yet. There’s an entire food court full of people, listening; there I am, with my cell phone ready to record. People always stand ready to judge harshly. Anyone with a camera could strip that one song out of context, ginning up their own narrative on a few moments of footage.
Vulnerability in art is often associated with the emotions that artists convey, how willing they are to dive into love, hurt, loss and hope. Yet Rabasca showed the food court what being vulnerable really is, and that’s the willingness to do something new, especially when you aren’t sure of how well it will go. It was one of the most human and raw moments I’ve experienced in covering the Winter Blues series.
NEXT
Jamil goes to check out some poetry.
