Someday I'll get over this Cowboy Junkies show

Stepping across the red plush-carpeted threshold of Bimbo’s 365 Club on Sunday night felt like turning back seventy years’ time. No longer were we college students adrift in the San Francisco of 2024—we had become high-profile patrons of an illustrious establishment, one of the 1950s’ finest. We later learned from the front-of-house engineer that the club, having been founded by Bimbo himself in the 1930s, moved to its current location in 1951. Its lavish period decor has been preserved to this day—a large, nude female sculpture overlooks the foyer, flanked by palm fronds and mirrored walls, and a well-populated fish tank can be found behind the bar. Stepping into the venue’s main room, we discovered an entirely seated audience grouped around drink-speckled tables. This was a welcome surprise, a coveted rarity in a sea of “standing room only” occasions.

With only a few minutes to spare before the music began, we squeezed in sheepishly amongst adults more than twice our age, shuffling our chairs to orient ourselves towards the stage. The house lights dwindled down, and the Cowboy Junkies paced into the spotlight.

The iconic country-rock quartet is composed of siblings Margo, Peter, and Michael Timmins on vocals, drums, and guitar respectively, with Alan Anton on bass—they were joined by longtime collaborator Jeff Bird on mandolin and auxiliary percussion. They have been slinging their signature blues-infused style since ‘86, but opened their greatly anticipated set with “Knives” off their most recent album Such Ferocious Beauty (2023). It was a brooding number characterized by suspenseful hi-hat and rim hits from drummer Peter, with Bird’s haunting harmonica ringing out over a smooth arpeggiated guitar. The song’s tension ebbed and flowed, broken by instrumental swells, with Margo enthralling the room with her inimitable alto.

Between songs the lone bass enveloped the crowd, soon accompanied by a flangered guitar. All of a sudden, this dramatic build collapsed seamlessly into the intro of the band’s most beloved cover: “Sweet Jane.” They sank into a comfortable vamp sprinkled with bass fills and guitar harmonics before Margo’s smooth and assured vocals re-entered the room. The song gradually built with layers of tambourine and the entrance of Michael Timmins’ gnarly, crunchy guitar, before ceding, once again, to Lou Reed’s unmistakable bass lick, the song’s central motif and lonesome soul.

The intentional unpredictability of the Junkies’ studio recordings was reproduced magnificently throughout the night, enhanced by the red-curtained, smokescreen ambiance of the space. Everyone in attendance was taken by this lushness—including the venue staff straying from their posts in the lobby to poke their heads smilingly through the doorway.

A few songs in, Margo took a break to sip her tea and chat with the audience. “We’re back in San Francisco,” she said, pausing as she was met by the crowd’s starstruck silence. “That’s a good thing,” she added after a few moments, eliciting laughter and applause. Rounding out this salutation, she remarked: “San Francisco is manageable for a country girl like me.”

Margo explained that Such Ferocious Beauty was “like many other Junkies’ albums, depressing,” as it captured the Timminses father’s physical and mental battle with dementia at the end of his life. Tracks such as “What I Lost,” “Hard To Build. Easy To Break,” and “Hell is Real” maintained the nihilistic mood, the latter beginning with the lines: “Hell is real, hell is hot/Jesus is coming, ready or not.”

Before breaking for intermission, the band performed an incredible cover of Neil Young’s “Don’t Let it Bring You Down,” with ethereal, otherworldly guitar feedback sending powerful tremors through the intimate atmosphere.

During the brief intermission, I took a trip to the ladies’ room, which I found to be replete with floss picks, numerous body sprays, and a tip basket to boot. I returned just in time as the band embarked on the latter half of their set, which Margo had promised would include more of their older songs. Commencing with “My Little Basquiat,” a funkier track, they quickly gained momentum. Following heart-shattering performances of “‘Cause Cheap Is How I Feel” and “Where Are You Tonight?” off of their 1990 opus The Caution Horses, as well as “Blue Guitar” from Miles From Our Home (1997), Pete and Alan exited the stage, making way for an incoming run of acoustic songs. These included covers of “Supernatural” by Vic Chesnutt and “Rake” by Townes Van Zandt, which Margo introduced with many affectionate compliments towards their writers. Performed with only acoustic guitar, mandolin, and vocals, this slower interlude wound the energy down before the victorious final leg of the Junkies’ set.

For their final number, the band delivered what I had been hoping for all night with leg-bouncing, finger-tapping anticipation—another track from The Trinity Session (1988), which I had first listened to in the bedroom of my dear friend (and concert plus one) Nico one sleepy March afternoon. Since then, it has become one of my most listened albums of the ensuing few months, with “Misguided Angel” in particular on relentless repeat during my walks around campus. Runners-up in the rotation are “To Love Is To Bury” and “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry.” Much to my chagrin, none of these made it on the set—but “Blue Moon Revisited (Song For Elvis)” served as an apt closer nonetheless. With the last notes of the outro having been played, the Junkies were met with an immediate standing ovation. The band exited graciously—but few in the crowd had returned to their chairs before they took up their instruments once more, ready to deliver the encore of a lifetime.

With the clock having just eclipsed quarter after ten, the Junkies glided into their cover of Waylon Jennings’ mournful love ballad “Dreaming My Dreams With You”—this was a big moment for those in the world who are currently, in colloquial terms, down bad. Last but certainly not least was the Junkies’ blessed rendition of Patsy Cline’s “Walkin’ After Midnight,” also from The Trinity Session. Concluding their performance, the band was granted their second and final standing ovation of the night—an acknowledgement of their enduring excellence that was more than well deserved.