An Evening with Advance Base, Little Mazarn, and Elnuh

Photo by Alejandra Sol Casas

Last night, Advance Base, the moniker of Owen Ashworth, braved the winter weather advisory in the warmth of Shotgun House Roasters, transforming the space into a pocket of understated lo-fi charm and wistful, melodic short stories.

“My name is Owen. I came here from Chicago to do my thing,” he began with disarming ease. “I have one question for you: Are you going to let me do my thing?”

He opened the night with “The Only Girl From Back Home,” a tale about the fallout of a friendship, set against the steady hum of synthesizers. Ashworth’s music rarely requires explanation or banter. His lyrics voice regrets, anxieties and plainspoke depictions of everyday tragedies. The narratives often retell events that went awry in the worst possible ways, where, whether fictional or not, the main characters reflect on the permanence of their mistakes. The instrumentation is sparse yet layered, with soft electronic pulses and subtle textures that never overwhelm or overpower his storytelling.

My introduction to Ashworth’s music began at age 18, when a former partner shared one side of their iPod headphones with me and played Casiotone for the Painfully Alone’s “Scattered Pearls,” an ironically upbeat vignette about a girl losing her grandmother’s pearls at a disco. Many years later, “Summon Satan” by Advance Base continues to resonate with me because of its simple take on the rituals we use to remember those that are no longer part of our lives. Listening to Advance Base became one of those rituals for me. Hearing it live was just one more reminder on how small, sacred moments dissipate with time and leave us yearning, worrying about “how long this loneliness will last.” 

Ashworth performed “Tooth Fairy”, which he simply explained “that song is about the Tooth Fairy,” but actually delves into complex, knot-in-your-throat emotions, such as the fear of failure in parenting and the quiet weight of vulnerability. He also performed a recent release, “The Year I Lived In Richmond,” a fictional account of crimes in a made-up town that parallels true events in a real town he once may have lived in.

Ashworth is currently on tour with the ethereal Austin-based experimental folk duo Little Mazarn. Multi-instrumentalists Lindsey Verrill and Jeff Johnston cast a quiet spell with Verrill's plaintive banjo and empyrean vocals, paired with Johnston’s mesmerizing saw and harmonium playing.

The evening began with a set by Elnuh, whose “trash gaze elevator music” proved a tender touch.

Together, all three artists offered a reprieve from the cold outside.

See photos from the show below:


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