Sweet Petunia, the Lifeblood, River Full of Fruit
House Show
Philadelphia
May 4, 2026
What’s it all about? When you see a show or a performance that makes you say, “That. That’s what it’s all about” – in my experience, so much of it comes down to context: where are we, who are we right now, what is the bigger story? What differentiates this night from all the others? What makes it all connect? Last night was a sweet full-circle moment for me because last summer I played a show in Boston at the home of Maddy Simpson, half of Sweet Petunia (along with Mairead Guy, also playing banjo, guitar and singing), and that’s how we met; now, here I was, walking just a few blocks away from my new spot to see them play. I knew Maddy as a fantastic, warm, welcoming host with the home decor of a first-rate curiosity shop (and shouts out to the delicious curry she made for everyone that night); what I didn’t know is that they’re an absolutely excellent singer and songwriter and multi-instrumentalist, and especially a fucking blazing banjo player. Like me, Maddy plays in the downhanding style – not bluegrass, but old-time, if we’re being particular about our folk-music micro-genres – but I could gush about the details in her playing that make listening to Sweet Petunia so excellent: deep rhythmic pocket and unreal backbeat-favoring strumming at positively dangerous tempos (like, 180 BPM and above), simultaneously sensitive and rollicking, all while singing breathlessly breakneck syncopated melodies that would have me tripping all over my damn self. The same goes for Guy, who was every bit the consummate musician and singer, but with their own sound and approach: playing a resonator banjo instead of open-back, with a brighter, more insistent tone. That these two found each other feels fated in the most musical sense. Frankly, there was no aspect of their performance that didn’t floor me. Local songwriter Isa Rose, closing the show, even remarked on how impressively Sweet Petunia tuned up between songs. (And I’m sure you know the old joke about banjos: “banjo players spend 90% of their time tuning, and 10% playing out of tune.” Not true in the slightest last night!)
I also loved the locals on this bill. River Full of Fruit played as a duo, the songwriter Salina Kuo singing and playing the guzheng – a large, elaborate Chinese harp-like zither – and 12-string guitar, with the always-stellar Sam Xiao Cody joining on violin. The self-taught Kuo told me they picked up the guzheng only a few years ago, and the guitar only about a year ago, but you’d never know it from their measured, detailed playing, their songwriting voice already distinct, with stepwise melodies that linger in suspensions and unsettled, searching harmonies. Isa Rose, singer-songwriter in the band the Lifeblood, said, “I’m feeling like letting it rip!” before the trio delivered a set of homespun, personal marvels: their songs, smartly arranged with hyper-specific conversational lyrics, were like colorful postcards from a curious, exceptionally-observant person. They’ve got an album in the can that I’m eager to hear; I felt about their music the way Rose described time with their niece in “Kiddo”: “Any time with you is a precious thing / Ok!” Opening up your home, playing music and helping each other out: that’s what it’s all about. Ok!
