Walking out of a gloomy, wet Seattle December night into the music palace that is Benaroya Hall is something of a transcendent experience; howling wind laced with cold, wet drops is quickly replaced by a warm calm, a sense of something culturally rich about to unfold. One immediately feels a connection to the myriad other people similarly excited to share in a unique musical experience. This particular evening on December 4th, that visceral magic set the perfect stage for a performance by the engaging, everyman pianist and songwriter Ben Folds, playing with the Seattle Symphony, directed by Edwin Outwater.
The orchestra was already set to go when Folds entered, led by conductor Edwin Outwater – himself famous for collaborations with pop and rock musicians (including Folds, the Decembrists, and Metallica). Lead violinist Emerson Millar led the orchestra into an upbeat foundation for a light, syncopated version of “But Wait, There’s More.” Folds’ hopeful lyrics – “do you still believe in people? I do” – were perfectly buttressed by the light, expertly played strings of the Symphony. This led immediately into an even more upbeat rendition of “Capable of Anything” – a beautiful piece in its own right but one made magical by Seattle’s capable musicians, whose symphonic expression conjured imagery of someone, indeed capable of anything, running joyfully through flowery fields on a sunny day, racing faster and faster toward something good, something better, as the song progressed.
Throughout his show, as is his wont, Folds entertained with stories of the creation of songs, or with random witty statements, for example, that “We’re just up here playing songs I made up.” The audience, clearly including many long-time fans, was only too eager to go along, singing harmony, laughing in the right places, and generally engaging.
True to his “normcore” writing style, Folds slowed things down (and, as he noted, put things in a minor key to reflect a sad song) with “Kristine From The 7th Grade.” This song is of this moment – touching as it does on the heartbreaking change people have found in one another when connecting only via social media – but also a reflection of sorts of the changes that have always happened to people as they grow up and away from one another. Here, too, the orchestral support shone, with the harp beautifully underpinning his voice, supported by a resonant upright bass before the full orchestra entered. As with so many Folds songs, it seemed to capture the wholeness and tragic beauty of life, now and always.
No performer with a catalog as deep as Ben Folds can get away without playing some of their hits, and true to that, the show next took the audience into “Still Fighting It” – a song that likely speaks to any parent who hears it (and which was written on the birth of Folds’ first child). Its low-brow yet incredibly incisive lyrics are a beautiful reflection of the power of music to tell a story, to probe deep into the human condition and share the often mundane and yet profoundly powerful moments in the story of a life.
The next string of songs were crowd pleasers – including “You Don’t Know Me At All” (a song originally performed as a duet with Regina Spektor), which quickly became a singalong in which Folds seemed tickled by the crowd’s singalong. This was followed by “Fragile,” and after intermission, the throwback “Zak & Sara.” Lindsay Kraft then joined folds for a beautiful rendition of “We Could Have This,” off his 2024 holiday album, Sleigher. Their harmonies interwove beautifully, underpinned even more by the Symphony.
Fittingly, a portion of the proceeds from this performance went toward Keys For Kids, a charitable initiative established by Folds in partnership with the North Carolina Arts Council and the North Carolina Arts Foundation. Folds has long been a strong and vocal supporter of the arts – something that’s been evident throughout his career, including (until February 2025) in his stint as the first artistic advisor to the National Symphony Orchestra at the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C. However, he made an impassioned plea for the audience to support orchestras in particular, emphasizing that they represent a coming together of people to make something better than any can make alone, thereby forming, in the process, the basis of civilization. Folds continued through a few more fun songs, including “Free Coffee” and “Effington” before exiting the stage, only to return for a gorgeous single-song encore playing “The Luckiest.”
Ben Folds is a truly one-of-a-kind treasure: a skilled musician who serves as a droll, lighthearted witness to the human experience, a chronicler of pain always balanced with a pragmatic sense of the possible. Despite everything, he exudes a sense of belief in humanity, and in turn through his music and the light it brings, he pushes us all to be better. To paraphrase “The Luckiest,” I know it may be a strange way to tell you but: Ben Folds is the everyman songwriter for these times, a troubadour pushing us to be better, to work together to create great things, harmonizing through the darkest of nights.
