Concert Review: Ryan Beatty Let His Audience “Scoot Inn” a Chair To Experience a Live Studio Recording

Ryan Beatty created an atmosphere of longing, reflection, and hope on the first stop of his “Calico” tour on Thursday, Feb. 15.

Written by William Beachum

Photos by Olivia Cagle

Ryan Beatty managed to give audiences a “Little Faith” last Thursday at the Scoot Inn in Austin, Texas. Even though, as Beatty mentioned during the show, he “has been doing this a long time,” the singer-songwriter brought his intricate instrumentation and graceful vocals for the first time to Austin in a serene, 85-minute long set.

The California native’s 2023 album Calico feels less like experimentation and more like a hometown meditation. Calico washes over listeners like a road trip through a rolling countryside, with its light acoustic guitar and piano tones creating a breathable atmosphere. The album stays sonically consistent, maintaining a singular, airy musical identity. 

Beatty released multiple live recording sessions to complement this aesthetic, with “White Teeth,” “Ribbons,” and “Bruises off the Peach” all receiving dedicated live videos. Beatty also performed “Cinnamon Bread” on an episode of “Live from My Den.” These videos foreshadowed the feel of Beatty’s tour performance as audiences watched him lay out his love for music raw in both virtual and live settings.

At 7:50 p.m., a lanky man solemnly walked on stage, serenaded by cheers of a crowd who assumed he was the opening act. This man stepped in front of an old, withered, wood piano with a keyboard to its side, playing a lyrical melody reminiscent of a Calico outro. After a minute or so of dumbfounding the audience, other band members started to join this pianist on stage as he slowly transitioned into playing the open chords to Elton John’s favorite Ryan Beatty song, “Ribbons.” Beatty then sauntered onto stage as a Boy in Jeans, to evoke his 2018 album, with a gray sweatshirt, pointed-toe brown leather shoes, and a mahogany overcoat complementing his famous blue jeans. He sat down in a chair, put his headphones on, and performed the rest of “Ribbons” with a calm passion.

The singer-songwriter then leveled with the audience and talked about Texas. He told the audience that this was his Austin debut, but that a lot of the album was inspired by Texas. This comment seemed to help the audience feel an immediate sense of connection that was reflected in the conversational atmosphere for the rest of the night. 

The crooner showed off his playfulness with his second performance, “Cinnamon Bread.” With faded lighting, Beatty sat down and felt every single part of this pillowy, sickeningly sweet song. The acoustic guitar frolicked throughout the venue, with Beatty’s lullabic voice piercing through the mellow atmosphere. The warm hug of “Cinnamon Bread” made the soft-spoken singer feel the love, which he showed on stage by dancing around with a childlike innocence in his chair, throwing his hands around in circles and swirling his head during the instrumental breakdown in the song’s outro. It felt like the balladeer had welcomed the audience to his college dorm to show them some music he was proud of, and he couldn’t help but show how much he enjoyed it.

For the third track, “Andromeda,” Beatty quietly asked his guitarist to start the song whenever he was ready while looking directly at him, reiterating the atmosphere of comfort. The performance of “Andromeda” existed as the first musical deviation from the album, as Beatty enlisted his pianist to electronically vocode his improvised melody during the outro. This choice helped accentuate the natural beauty of Beatty’s voice while also paying homage to his previous synthetic experimentation on albums like Boy in Jeans and Dreaming of David.

After a relatively middling performance of “Bright Red,” Beatty informed the audience that they were entering into the Boy in Jeans portion of the setlist. He claimed that “that album was where everything started,” and that he “owes so much to this album.” Some audience members were clearly attending this concert simply for this portion of the set. It felt intelligent to place these two songs in the middle of his set, as stand-alone fans of Boy in Jeans would be satiated while they are still invited into the dream of Calico, rather than separating the two musical identities.

For both Boy in Jeans bangers, “Haircut” and “Powerslide,” Beatty changed these initially electronically produced songs into full-on acoustic ballads. On “Haircut,” Beatty’s backing band created a symphony of ecstasy through a conversation between slide guitars, bass guitars, hi-hats, and piano as the singer came in with his most famous chorus line, “It starts right now,” which the audience passionately screamed back to him.

“Powerslide,” on the opposite end, was easily the night's most awkward moment. The original song is a smooth electronic summer jam that rides off of a grounded, synth-driven groove. Beatty decided to switch the song to be more in line with the soft balladry of Calico, which tempered the audience’s palpable excitement to scream the chorus. The soft, falsetto delivery of “Summer’s over when I die” felt more like a safe choice to maintain cohesion than an artistic variant performed effectively earlier on “Andromeda.”

The folk-pop artist then performed “Backseat” off of Dreaming of David, which felt intensely personal to the queer songwriter. The audience didn’t know many of the words, making the stripped-down song subtle, real, and especially important for Beatty to perform.

He continued this momentum and stood up to perform lead single “Bruises Off The Peach,” which was a cry of passion for Beatty. While the singer’s voice stayed mostly subdued and peaceful for most of the night, this performance showcased a more raw, unfiltered side. During the second verse, Beatty belted out with a carnal curiosity, “Love will always hold me down / What is it all about?” His voice broke with intention and spirit, bending and breaking to the journey of the song and reflecting the audience’s pain back to them.

After a lull from slower songs “Hunter” and “Multiple Endings,” Beatty claimed that “White Teeth” would be his final song of the night, and that it was “one of his favorite songs he had ever written.” This song was simply ethereal in a live setting. Beatty slipped in and out of his falsetto with a masterful agility, utilizing his voice’s weight to connect with audiences eye-to-eye and sing to them protectively. Orchestral elements of the recorded version were translated live onto a keyboard, rendering the keyboardist sweaty at the song’s end but dedicated to evoking the passionate, triumphant atmosphere of this song.

Beatty took off his headphones and slowly walked off the stage at 9:00 p.m., creating a genuine fear that there would be no encore. Much to the audience’s surprise, his band returned to the stage at 9:02 p.m. The singer followed his band out to center stage, telling the audience that he “swore off encores a long time ago,” but started to do them again because “he always wanted another taste,” winkingly referencing the lyrical themes about desire on Calico.

The soulster then performed a Dolly Parton cover and a Lucinda Williams cover before closing the night with a subtle, purely sentimental version of “Little Faith.” Instrumental isolation from a downsized band created a purely intimate moment with the audience, modernizing the appeal of the closeness of “Backseat.” He exited the stage at 9:10 p.m. with a blown kiss to the audience and a subtle confidence.

For his Calico tour, Beatty has given the venue an especially important role in his performance. Whether it's the subtle intimacy of “Little Faith” and “Backseat” or the acoustic swell of “White Teeth” and Haircut,” this setlist requires a venue that can let audiences feel like they are calmly observing a studio session rather than losing themselves in a foreign world. Even with some sonic hiccups, Beatty was able to create a calm, consenting environment at Scoot Inn that was focused on a love of music. He let audiences be a part of the performance, feeling valued in the space. It didn’t feel like audiences bought tickets — they bought invitations.