Mother Mother Heartens Up House of Blues in Boston

Venues with a smaller capacity tend to create a perfect fusion of intimacy and energy that can’t be found elsewhere, and House of Blues is no exception. On Oct. 12, the Boston location hosted Canadian indie rock band Mother Mother, turning the venue into a three-tiered cake of grungy concertgoers. Even a brief observation of the crowd made it clear that just about anyone can be a Mother Mother fan—that fifteen-year-old who compliments your hair, that couple that vaguely looks like they could be your parents, or even that student you’ve seen on campus a handful of times but have never spoken with. One fact was immediately apparent: we were all intensely excited for the show. All it took for the audience to let loose a scream was the unfurling of a tapestry with the band’s name on it during set changes. The anticipation was palpable before the band even came on stage. 

Photo courtesy of Jamie Nickerson.

Mother Mother—made up of members Ryan Guldemond (vocals and guitar), Molly Guldemond (vocals and keyboard), Jasmin Parkin (vocals and keyboard), Ali Siadat (drums), and Mike Young (bass)—is currently on the U.S. leg of their tour for their eighth album, Inside. Interesting enough, Inside takes on the energy of their older work, most notably their sophomore album, O My Heart. That album struggled to find its ground when it first debuted in 2008 but found new life in 2020 when several songs gained TikTok notoriety. A driving force was the music’s resonance with nonbinary communities. In a 2020 interview with Rolling Stone, frontman Ryan Guldemond discussed his happiness with their music finding its place with young fans today. “It’s such a high honor and huge compliment whenever it’s suggested that our music might serve as an adequate soundtrack to a courageous journey of self-discovery that often rubs against societal norms.” He also told Rolling Stone, “That early music really struggled to fit neatly into the industry standards of either a rock or pop format,” which explains its popularity now; modern popular music is rife with genre-bending works that routinely challenge the boundaries of what music can be. 

At the Boston show, Ryan Guldemond made sure the audience felt comfortable in the space. “Lotta life in this room,” he said. “Lots of stories…everybody here is the lead character of their own movie.” The band reiterated that this room was safe for everyone and thanked the audience for introducing their music to new communities. 

Mother Mother put on an effervescent performance. They were unrestrained in their stage presence, displaying their infectious energy and creating positive crowd interaction. Nothing beats having lead vocalist and guitarist Ryan Guldemond stand five feet away from you as he dashes off stage and comes to greet the audience. (What was a poor Five Cent Sound journalist to do but stand there, utterly shocked into stillness, and quietly murmur “Oh my God” as he ran back on stage?) The music itself created a sense of being elevated outside of the body, but the crunchiness of the guitars and bass were grounding. It truly was a visceral experience; there’s no other way to accurately describe the vibe of their music. There was a delightful shift in the set when they played a few songs stripped down, including “Arms Tonite,” “Body,” and “Wrecking Ball.” A personal favorite was the transition from “Hayloft” into “Hayloft II;” it’s quite rare to see artists remaking and revitalizing old songs in such a fresh way, especially to tell an extended story. 

Photo courtesy of Jamie Nickerson.

The night was dynamic in every way possible. I felt the ache in my bones, having just come from a Declan McKenna concert the night before. My makeup was terribly smudged, and loads of incomplete projects were pushing at the back of my brain, but none of it felt like it mattered because I felt safe in that space that night—comfortable sharing this experience with hundreds of strangers I’ll never get to meet, with hundreds of stories I’ll never learn. Being there, together for one night, meant that each person in attendance went home having gained one shared story.