Celebrating the Queer Side of Country Music: An Evening with Willi Carlisle and Adeem the Artist

Written by Emmi Weiner - Photos by Mat Matlack

Rose Music Hall has a reputation for bringing some of the latest and greatest americana acts to Columbia and on February 21st, Rose treated us to the next generation of future legends: Willi Carlisle (fresh from his Outlaw of the Year recognition at Ameripolitan Music Awards) and Adeem the Artist (fresh from their respectable retirement from Twitter). 

A group of dedicated fans buzzed till Adeem The Artist took the stage in their trademark denim jumpsuit and goofy smirk. They began their set by allowing the crowd to celebrate 24 days of sobriety with them and launched into storytelling and songs. They treated the crowd to a new song, “The gospel by Adeem” nearly right off the bat and had everyone singing along with “Jesus christ likes fast cars, pedal to the metal cuz he's the lord.”

Their stage banter was on point, with Columbia playing along. When no one cheered for North Carolina during their introduction to “Asheville Blues,” Adeem’s dedication to the bit went to a new level as they threw off their guitar strap and pretended to storm off,

finally eliciting the reaction they wanted, once the crowd informed them that Columbia IS the Ashveville in this case (but let’s not say this TOO loud, or our rent will go up, again).

Wearing Dale Earnhardt on their thigh, they took the crowd on a journey of self-discovery and rejection of tradition, making sure everyone in the room knew there is a place for queer people in country music. The absolute magic of watching a queer person sing queer songs for a queer audience was not to be missed as they sang “For Judas” and the crowd joined in and screamed Northeast Minneapolis art district alongside Adeem.

Adeem specifically planned the set to mirror their fall from religion and development of a new sense of self. The subtle agreement from the crowd gave the impression that growing up within restrictive religion and having to re-find the self is a universal enough experience. From “Going to Heaven” to “Going to Hell,” The crowd made their choice clear and answered an unquestioning YES when Adeem asks “Do you want to go to hell, children, with Adeem the Artist?” 

Adeem the Artist is a human going places, they take up space and demand to be seen. Donning red lips and a big smile, Adeem only hints at their potential. They leave the crowd absolutely jazzed, satisfied and craving a set with a full band.

After a set break, the man of the evening, a fringed behemoth, a storyteller of a generation, Willi Carlisle climbed the steps of the Rose Music Hall stage and started making a ruckus with “What the rocks don’t know.” 

Willi then launched into his signature storytelling with “Tulsa’s Last Magician”, embodying both a boyish sense of wonder and the knowing tales of a man who’s been around the US a time or two. 

He then settles into his wisdom and announces the end of his peckerwood era and the beginning of his whippersnapper era. There does come a time when we all must grow up a little, but just at that moment, Willi throws in one of his great millennial digs: He is a self-proclaimed peckerwood moon with a whippersnapper rising. He follows this with a rousing go at “Cheap Cocaine.”

At this point, Willi takes a moment to shift into a more heartfelt position and shares some new songs, but only after a fantastic group shush and deputizing the crowd to continue the shushing. Willi shares a sad song about bad dads that is delivered like a gut punch. He calmly and gently states “It’s still sad when an asshole dies” and the crowd nods in agreement. 

He kept the mood somber and shared another new song with the crowd, a song about love and loss. He reached deep within himself and shared a song about a lover lost to a Fentanyl overdose. Witnessing a queer love song about a drug overdose in the middle of Missouri was powerful, evoking chills and tears. Willi took this moment to tell the crowd there is free Narcan at the merch booth. We love a man not only in touch with his feelings but advocates for harm reduction policies.

To lighten up the mood, Willi gave us a treat by picking up his squeeze box (the nicest thing he owned till he bought a van recently) to play “Drunk Wife Polka.” He then begins to get into the traditions and folk songs, aggressively reminding us to look back at where we came from while also moving forward. 

Willi demands to be seen as a storyteller, a queer folk hero, and a reluctant leader. He takes audiences on a journey through history and self-reflection. He tells the stories of folk songs he’s gathered and shares how they relate to today. He shares the story from the 1890s of Antonio Lopez, who just like many of us now, was just trying to buy some land.

He moves through instruments just as often as a song, this time pulling out a fiddle and talking about old-time music traditions. He goes on to say some of the most metal and punk music he has found turned up in the most unlikely of places: churches in the Ozarks. 

He casts aside his instruments and sings a stunning song, a Vietnam war era ballad called the Ballad of Penny Evans. With a crowd armed only with “sush,” the room remained quiet while Willi carried on acapella. He spoke of understanding where we’ve come from, and how we were raised by a generation before the pill existed. 

Of course, he performed Peculiar, Missouri and Vanlife, pulling the crowd into his wacky cross-country travels. Willi’s verbose style seems to always hit the right marks. His storytelling turns his concerts into community events. He forces people to participate, pulling the words he just taught them from their lips. He brought everyone into “Your Heart is a Big Tent” and I swear the crowd’s heart grew three sizes right then and there. 

He left the stage only to come back a minute later to pull another song out of the crowd. Along we sang, “She’ll never be mine, I want all her treasure so simple and fine.” Willi ended the show and made sure to come out into the crowd and take time with each and every person who was willing to wait their turn.

Both Adeem and Willi celebrate the weird, queer side of country music. They demand space and bring up politics in a way that is casual and doesn’t leave space to disagree. They were met in Columbia with a welcoming and willing crowd. May these two artists continue their growth and journey and continue to let everyone in.