Stevie B. Wolf is profound. His sound reflects it — compassionate, introspective, and deeply contemplative. His lyrics would fit equally on the pages of Tolkien as among the stanzas of Neruda. Riveting. Not just for the stories they tell but for the way they fit together, in space and in sound, clicking in harmony as though set by a master watchmaker.
But his songs are as catchy as they are deep. Your fingers will snap on their own, and hours later you’ll find his tune humming on your lips. “Way before I even picked up a guitar, I was always drawing comic book characters or making figurines out of clay. And I’ve always made things that seriously depict how I see the world, but that also are fun to see and hear,” says the 21-year-old Colorado native.
Nowhere is this beautiful crashing of fine art with lighthearted fun more apparent than in Stevie’s 2013 debut EP, Glass and Gold, the shining result of nine years of guitar and over 16 years of songwriting. But the crashing of contrasts works. It’s a show of his versatility, neither fine art nor mindless fun, but fine fun. In “Cigarette Love,” his guitar is fat and warm, like a church bell wrapped in velvet, ringing under his voice as he growls with the soul of the blues. In “Closer,” he wails passionate R&B tones over virtuoso guitar playing, and “The Heart You Save” crackles with the raw emotion of a rock anthem.
But it started in the quiet of Boulder, Colorado, where Stevie, son of Tim and Mary Wolf, grew up steeped in music and surrounded with family members pursuing musical projects ranging from bluegrass to death metal. At age twelve, he picked up a guitar, and it was love at first sight. It was the beginning of a long-term relationship that took him from small coffee-shop gigs, to bars and nightclubs in Denver, Boston, Oxford, UK, and New York City. That love affair still charges on, and things are getting serious: Stevie is moving to the next level, bringing the sound to more people. The response? “Give us more.”
Stevie B. Wolf has been here before. As he finishes tuning his guitar, the heat from the stage lights seeps through the curtain and the audience applauds another artist finishing her set. His face cracks into a self-effacing grin, and he slouches down from a full six-foot-one, his voice cool, but filled with sincere gratitude.
Anyway, thanks for taking the time to talk with me. You have no idea how much it means when people are as excited about this stuff as I am. Enjoy the show.”
He pushes out to the stage, and the spotlights twinkles as the curtain snaps shut behind him. His guitar begins to sing—so does he.
And the audience loves it.