Cripsy Duck Encourages Us to “Pick a Side” when it comes to Jesse Welles
By WTJU Folk
Pick a Side
Jesse Welles at the 9:30 Club in Washington, D.C. 3/1/26
Jesse Welles started popping up in my social media feeds some time in 2024, a charmingly mulleted folker standing in a power line clearing, skewering the news of the day with his sandpaper voice and lost-in-the-trailer-park vibes. He was clever and cute and better at what he was doing than anyone has been in at least a generation. It was easy to see his star was rising if not just because The Algorithm was constantly elevating him.
Welles seems able to spin a song on the day’s news without effort, riding the waves of terrible reports as they come, always concise, always biting, always clever and best of all: always catchy. He’s giving off whiffs of young Dylan.
When he started appearing on the late night talk show circuit and getting awards from the Americana Music Association, it became clear he had caught the nation’s ear. Jesse Welles is climbing into history. This is his moment. He put out five records in 2025, for chrissakes. This guy is on the move.
So when a friend said he had a spare ticket to see the sold-out Jesse Welles show at the 9:30 Club in Washington, D.C., I jumped on it. How many times do you get to catch a star on the rise? This will likely be the last tour you will be able to stand with one elbow on the bar 30 feet from the man in a crowd of strangers and, you know, feel it.
We rolled up to the 9:30 on a chilly early March eve and entered DC’s venerated rock hall.
S.G. Goodman took the stage to open, her band rolling out a hypnotic thump of desert-air Americana, mostly tunes from her latest release, Planting By The Signs. Mercilessly plodding and moody, they set the tone for the show – big poetry, simple deep thoughts, personal revelations, steely determination.
Her set closed with a solo a cappella mountain holler variation on “Which Side Are You On?” – but not before she reminded us that this wasn’t written by Pete Seeger or Bob Dylan, but a Kentucky woman. Yeah, we actually knew that already. (Her name was Florence Reece.) But point well taken.
Jesse Welles took the stage solo in an athletic tank top, armed with only an acoustic guitar and a harmonica. Folk singer load out check and check.
The Trump Administration had launched an assault on Iran two days prior and Welles wasn’t about to let fruit that low-hanging slip by without taking a bite. Not here, in the nation’s capitol. He opened with a new one: “Some days you get out your B-2s/ And go bomb Iran.”
Game on.
Momentum was up as Welles slipped into “Join ICE” – a takedown of the marshmallow militiamen terrorizing American cities in the name of Trump’s anti-immigrant fantasies.
“Join ICE for respect and power
Join ICE I hear they got great hours
They got a sign-on bonus of 50 grand
They’re in need of you needin’ to feel like a man
Join ICE”
A crisp “The List” followed, referencing the protected clientele that supported and indulged in Jeffrey Epstein’s apparently infinite cruelty and depravity.
The show was coming along nicely. Welles is a presence. Very compelling, and so on point. Funny but actually deadly serious. Hard not to respect and yes, love this.
Then something happened I was not expecting. A band slipped onstage as Jesse snapped the final chord of one folk anthem (was it United Health?), and a massive American flag dropped behind them as they launched into a full on rock spectacle to make Tom Petty’s Heartbreakers proud.
It is easy when looking at, say, Mick Jagger, to think “what a showman,” and forget that that prancing peacock is the mind behind “Sympathy For The Devil,” and “Street-Fighting Man.” He’s a prototypical front man, sure, famously one of the absolute greats. But he’s also top of his class for songwriting. A true master.
Similarly, it is easy to look at Prince and marvel at his swagger, brilliant popcraft and production, immaculately maintained image and undeniable magnetism and overlook the fact that he was a marksman musician, a guy who could have played in anybody’s band. Maybe one of the most capable guitarists of his generation.
So I don’t know why it caught me so off-guard when Welles started absolutely ripping the living shards out of his acoustic guitar like it was a Les Paul through a full stack. Not “hey, he’s pretty good,” but “HOLY SH#T! He’s gonna hurt somebody with that thing!”
He’d receive no knocks if he just set down the acoustic guitar and picked up an electric, but no. The man clearly has something to prove. THIS MACHINE KILLS FASCISTS.
“All the masks are off and they don’t even try
they know that you know that they know
and they don’t even mind it”
They absolutely crushed this show, Jesse opening and closing the set on unaccompanied acoustic, driving social justice all the way home, with a total rock throw-down sandwiched in the middle visiting both Black Sabbath and Nirvana, while Welles shredded to the gods of wah wah ON HIS ACOUSTIC GUITAR. All the while, the searing message:
Which side are you on?
Not your granddad’s folk singer and one the likes of which this country hasn’t seen in a very long time and so desperately needs right now. Don’t sleep on Jesse Welles. He ain’t sleeping on us.
-Cripsy Duck
aka Rudy2Shooz
aka Stephen Barling, WTJU Folk Director
