The Troubadour was founded in 1957, and since then it has seen the likes of Joni Mitchell, Led Zeppelin and Bob Dylan perform within its small wooden walls. On Friday night, folk musician Jesse Welles took the stage for the first time to a sold-out crowd. 

The audience was full of people of different ages and backgrounds, some having come with a date, some as a family and others in large friend groups. Certain attendees sported clothing with a political meaning, such as a keffiyeh wrapped around the shoulders or a jean jacket covered in protest buttons and patches. 

Before the show began, the audience milled around browsing the merchandise table and ordering drinks. Conversation about hot-button issues like the Trump administration’s recent immigration policies and the Israel-Hamas war swirled in the air. 

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Welles’ music is inherently political, following the legacy of musicians like Pete Seeger and Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, so it made sense that the crowd would be eager to talk to like-minded peers, especially at a venue so integral to music history.

Alone, Welles descended the stairs onto the stage at exactly 8:30 p.m. Clad in a red and black plaid button-down and simple blue jeans, he looked exactly as if he had walked straight out of the ’60s and onstage with his shag haircut, acoustic guitar and silver harmonica holder. 

He first played “Fat” off of his 2024 debut album “Hells Welles,” and the crowd sang along as he sang “Well it’s your own damn fault you’re so damn fat / Coca-Cola just walked in with the results / They did a self-investigation like a Florida sheriff station / So you know they won’t be found at fault.” 

In an age where universities, corporations and even the media fail to buck the latest conservative political trends, it was refreshing to see an artist so clearly and proudly rooted in their values. Welles filled the room with his solid, confident stage presence as he performed his songs, which dared to draw attention to the myriad of crises facing everyday Americans. 

In the venue, listening, singing along and coming together as a community of people seeking change and peace felt as if something was finally going right in a time when everything feels like it’s falling apart.

Welles next sang “Walmart,” still standing alone underneath warm lights and captivating every eye in the room. The crowd cheered as he laid into the multi-billion dollar corporation: “I saw a family of thirty-three / Red-headed, boiling over / Pick the clearance aisle apart / Like some buzzards on the shoulder.” 

Welles’ startlingly specific and evocative lyricism took center stage at the show, as the crowd simply listened most of the time. His songs are beautiful, yet their lyrical content can often be acerbic and sarcastic as he targets the many evils of modern society.

The entire crowd sang along as he performed “United Health,” which has over 4 million views and 6,000 comments of support on TikTok and a million streams on Spotify. 

It was written after the shooting of former United Healthcare CEO Brian Thompson, but the song has no love for the company. The crowd whooped and hollered as Welles’ raspy voice rang out the protest-ready lyrics: “There ain’t no ‘You’ in UnitedHealth / There ain’t no ‘Me’ in the company / There ain’t no ‘Us’ in the private trust / There’s hardly humans in humanity.” 

One of the best parts of folk music is that it teaches while it entertains. Welles gave a small lesson in “United Health,” singing “So, if you get sick, cross your fingers for luck / ‘Cause old Richard T. Burke ain’t givin’ a fuck.” Burke founded what is now known as United Healthcare in 1974; as of this year, he is worth over $700 million. In 2024, the company was accused of using algorithms to sort through claims and denying coverage of nursing care to stroke patients.

Welles performed solo for the first half of the show, but a drummer and bassist joined him onstage for the latter half as he transitioned from acoustic folk to a more rockabilly sound. 

Hints of Bruce Springsteen and Bob Dylan could be found in his performance — he even performed Dylan’s hit “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door” — but the wonderful thing about Welles is that it’s obvious that he’s his own man. He’s taken inspiration from the greats, of course, but he’s managed to create a sound and an ethos that’s entirely him and entirely of the moment.

One of the most poignant moments of the night was when he performed “Horses” with the band as the bass and drums melded with his guitar to create something that felt comforting and familiar. From the opening lyrics to the chorus, the song encapsulated Welles’ message: We must love and shed the weight of all our learned hatred, and we ought to do something about the state of the world. 

The crowd stood enraptured as he made his statement, singing “All my flannels made in Bangladesh / All my t-shirts in Vietnam / There are places that we quietly ignore / There are places that we go and bomb.” It was as if the audience had all suddenly realized they were watching someone truly great — someone who was unafraid to stand up for his beliefs and who was equivalent in skill and talent to the great folk singers of old. 

It was a gift to watch Welles perform, as it always is when you realize you’re in the presence of a true star. As he walked off and then back on stage for his solo encore, someone in the crowd shouted out, “Welcome to [Los Angeles]! We wish you could stay!” Chuckles echoed through the venue, and Welles smiled sheepishly on stage, but nevertheless the sentiment rang true. He ended the night with his viral song “War Isn’t Murder,” and when he finished singing the last lyric and strumming the last note, the crowd went wild. 

As everyone funneled out of the storied walls of the Troubadour and lined up outside to buy merch, there was an impassioned energy humming in the air. Welles had fired up the crowd, and the entire night had been a fantastic and much-needed reminder that many people in the world recognize the dire nature of the present moment and still want to fight for themselves and the people they care about.