RECAP: Laura Leigh Band @ September’s Too, 7/22/2026

By Charla Earney.

The rain came. The rain left.

That’s just the New York way.

I talk about the weather more than most people because I’ve come to think of it as the universe setting the tone for the evening. It’s a reminder that there are only so many things we control. The weather is not one of them. I’ve stopped fighting it. Instead, I let it become part of the story. Rain changes a perception, so does the open air. A coffee shop during a storm feels different than one on a sunny afternoon. A neighborhood bar is filled with people looking for shelter, conversation, and maybe a little music. By the time I walked into September’s Too on Wednesday night, the clouds had already moved on, leaving behind one of those evenings that feels full of life.

Some bands connect with me within the first few notes. Others take time. I’ve always joked that I love the blues because ninety percent of it lives inside the same handful of chords. Country music isn’t very different. Four familiar chords become thousands of songs, each musician adding their own personality, stories, and emotion. That’s where the magic happens. Laura Leigh was different for me. I’ve seen her perform several times over the past year, beginning with one of her shows at Unihog. Each time I left feeling like I was missing something everyone else was hearing. I’ll admit something most reviewers probably wouldn’t. I didn’t get it. Her voice didn’t immediately draw me in. I struggled to connect with it. While the crowds around me were dancing and singing along, I found myself standing there wondering what I wasn’t hearing. Friends whose musical opinions I genuinely respect loved her performances. Fans described her as someone you either instantly love or simply don’t understand. That bothered me.

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned since I started writing about live music is that sometimes it isn’t the artist. Sometimes it’s me. Instead of writing Laura Leigh off, I kept coming back. Last night, someone who follows my writing encouraged me one more time to really listen. Not to the performance. To the person. That changed everything.

When I listen to live music, the instruments are what keep me grounded. Bass, drums, and guitar establish the rhythm that makes your feet tap and your shoulders sway. Vocals do something entirely different. Vocals tell the story. Lyrics become what I call “the art of relation.” It is the place where listeners recognize pieces of themselves inside someone else’s life.

That’s where Laura Leigh shines.

She isn’t trying to be larger than life; she just is. She feels like the hometown girl who picks up an acoustic guitar around the campfire, and suddenly everyone IS singing along. Her songs carry joy throughout her performances. There is an authenticity in her delivery that simply can’t be manufactured. It sounds lived in. Earned. Happy. Once I heard that … I couldn’t unhear it. The voice that had once distracted me became the very thing that makes her unique. It isn’t technical precision that defines Laura Leigh, although she has it.

It’s her tone.

Every singer has one voice. Great singers have an identity. Laura Leigh’s tonal inflections remain remarkably consistent from note to note. They’re distinctive enough that, at first, they distracted me. Once my ears adjusted, I realized that uniqueness is exactly what separates her from countless other singers. The closest comparison I could think of was Sonny Bono. His voice wasn’t traditional, but it carried a character that was unmistakably his own. Alongside Cher, that distinctiveness helped create something audiences still recognize and love decades later. Laura Leigh has that same kind of musical fingerprint. Around her stood a band that made the entire evening a good time.

Andrew Crawford guest spotted with lead guitar and deserves special recognition. His Telecaster drifted effortlessly between classic country twang, bluesy bends, and rock-and-roll swagger. Every slide seemed perfectly placed, adding color without ever overwhelming the songs. He’s quietly becoming one of those guitarists you find yourself watching more and more throughout the night.

Chris Macchia held everything together on bass. Calm, confident, and impossibly steady, he anchored every song with the kind of consistency audiences rarely notice until it’s missing. He carries himself with a quiet confidence that says he knows exactly where every song is headed before anyone else does.

Behind them, Chanda Dewey reminded everyone why great drummers don’t always need flashy solos. Relaxed in everyday clothes with her hair in a loose bun by the end of the night. She carried herself with such an easy, unassuming presence that I couldn’t have guessed what was coming just by looking at her. That is the type of presence that carries through whether doing the dishes or putting on a show. When she played, it was solid. Tasteful. Consistent. Every beat served the song instead of competing with it. It’s the kind of musicianship professionals and I admire.

Together, the band blends country, folk, roots rock, bluegrass, and classic Americana into something that feels to me Appalachian. Their traditional influences aren’t just heard; they’re visible in the audience. Before long, boots were tapping, feet were moving, and smiles spread naturally around the room.

It’s no surprise Laura Leigh was named the 2026 Capital Region Eddie’s Americana Artist of the Year, and earlier this year the band released a five-song EP. I believe I heard several original songs Wednesday night. I didn’t know them then. Now I want to. One of the unexpected gifts of writing about live music is discovering that first impressions aren’t always final impressions. Sometimes an artist doesn’t change.

I do.

Laura Leigh didn’t perform differently Wednesday night than she had the first time I saw her.

I listened differently. And somewhere between the rain clouds clearing and the final song, I realized I’d gained another artist to follow. Sometimes the best music isn’t the kind that grabs you immediately. Sometimes it’s the music that patiently waits until you’re finally ready to hear it.