An audience’s view of Haley Heynderickx

Haley Heynderickx is always up. Her speaking voice curls up at the corners, lilting and genuine, like peeling wallpaper about to reveal something greater hidden behind. Delightful sentiments drift out of her mouth between poignant, heartfelt song, occasionally for the field of people sprawled out in front of her, stoned, sunburnt and totally enraptured, but largely for the benefit of her band. It is apparent she and her band love what they do, love each other, love the music they create and love the audience for loving them… or even just for showing up. 

San Francisco’s iconic Hardly Strictly Bluegrass (HSB) festival, taking place over three days in Golden Gate Park, always boasts an impressive bill of performers, but Haley Heynderickx achieves a feat few newcomers are able to in their short, hour-long sets: she radiates gratitude. For a new performer at the festival playing a mid-afternoon set, Heynderickx attracted a significant crowd, of college students like myself, of long-time festival goers, of people drawn in like bees to her honeyed voice. “You make us feel like rockstars,” she beamed, dipping as easily in and out of grace as she did lyrical existential dread, the audience whooping and hollering for her unique, indie brand of fingerpicked country-folk.

Heynderickx’s gratitude does not end with her audience, rather, it is an immovable part of her discography, and hence, her live performances. At HSB on October 5, 2024, she performed an entire, yet-unreleased album, Seed of a Seed, that has never seemed more grateful to be alive. “This song is dedicated to little Filipino mothers,” she murmured, before launching into a song about the sacrifices immigrant mothers make for their children and the strength that requires, the risks they must take, and how this bravery and love allows their children to flourish. Heynderickx may be soft-spoken, but she is certainly not soft-sung, her live performances enunciating every serious word of every seriously beautiful song she writes.

I think some people in the audience did not “get it,” whatever that “it” is. Playing to a festival audience, who have usually spent the majority of their day intoxicated, is no small feat. Trying to cover someone’s performance in an audience who either seemed to be twiddling their thumbs until Heynderickx played her biggest hits, or couldn’t keep their (unfortunately) negative comments to themselves, is no small feat either. Hardly Strictly Bluegrass barely issues press passes, and I am certainly not of stature enough to attain one. I watched and photographed Heynderickx between the heads of lovers and haters, drunk and sober, devoted fans and casual listeners, as much a part of the audience as anybody else. And from the moment she introduced herself–“I’m Haley, with an out-of-tune guitar and direct sunlight”– I was charmed. Haley Heynderickx has a unique genuinity, even when playing to hundreds of people, and I’d like to think that even the toughest audience is able to understand that. It wasn’t long before the word “sweetheart” began to drift my way, negative comments dying in its wake as her set went on. 

Yet, I cannot reinstate enough that though Heynderickx may have a stage presence full of whimsy, her songs are grounded deep in reality, something that only becomes more apparent live. I had arrived excited to hear her most recent single “Foxglove,” a song I initially appreciated for its finger-picked “new-grass” sound, as someone chronically observant of musicality before lyricism. I found out later that Heynderickx herself describes “Foxglove” as a prayer. In the green expanses of Golden Gate Park, in the city I have been parading as my favorite in the world since I was thirteen, hearing those opening lines, “Tell me, truly, what is your dream? / Tell me, truly, is it the city life?,” I finally understood her prayer, and the internal struggle between nature and urban life it represents for me. 

For me. That is key. That is what an audience thinks, at every festival, at every live performance. The raucous cheers for Heynderickx at the end of her set, where she did indeed perform her biggest hits, “The Bug Collector” and “Oom Sha La La,” speak to that. Remarkably, Heynderickx is able to play into this, as though she is singing a special song for each and every one of the audience members, all whilst retaining both her care for the collective and the artistic voice that comes from truly and genuinely within her. Haley Heynderickx did not hear the girl next to me let out a shriek of excitement as the iconic rambling guitar melody to “The Bug Collector” began, complete with fiddle dryly descending, mimicking a centipede’s crawl as Heynderickx sings the opening line, “And there’s a centipede / naked in your bedroom.” Nor did she see my excitement at that beautiful, innovative piece of musical embellishment. 

Haley Heynderickx does not know my friend whirled me into a hug as we met up post-set, thrilled to the core that, even after running late, she arrived in time to hear “Oom Sha La La.” Haley Heynderickx does not know that, contrastingly, “Oom Sha La La” got me through a very difficult freshman year of college– “The milk is sour, I’ve barely been to college / And I’ve been doubtful, of all that I have dreamed of” – and that finally hearing it live, two years older and wiser and better-off, was in some paradoxically small, great way a shift to my perspective. I am still doubtful of all that I have dreamed of. I think Haley Heynderickx is too, bringing up that doubt again, in a graduated form, in “Foxglove.” Perhaps we have graduated from one grade of doubt to another, together. 

I don’t know if Haley Heynderickx is aware that her festival audience– yes, each and every member– was experiencing her set differently. I don’t know if she’s even aware that they’re all thinking, “This is for me.” As audience members, we can’t help it. We want to be seen by someone whose music we have blasted in our ears during the most significant twists of our lives; it’s only human nature. Heynderickx’s great talent as a performer, especially at an event as crowded as Hardly Strictly Bluegrass, is that she does see her audience, cutting through the doubt her songs vocalize and bringing them closer to the whole. Beyond a line in “Oom Sha La La,” “If you don’t go outside / Well nothing’s gonna happen,” she seems to be saying, Hey. Get outside. Do something. Do something. Do SOMETHING!

Start a garden. Start a garden! START A GARDEN!

And even though my landlord paved over the dirt patch in my backyard, I think I will, metaphorically. Because Heynderickx sang that for me, one of hundreds, in a pair of dusty cowboy boots, clutching an old Canon camera. I’m an audience member, and she’s singing to me and me alone. When Haley Heynderickx is up, I’m up. And when she tells me to stop falling down, I’ll climb out of the hole, hand-in-musical-hand, with Heynderickx, her out-of-tune guitar, and a new lease on life.

At least for the weekend. 

 

Article and photos by Gianna Caudillo