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New Music Review: Lewis Knudsen and Lainey Jean’s “Tired” – A REAL Antidote to Digital Monotony

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Life, in its most fundamental rhythm, is a sequence of repetitions. There is a deep, primal satisfaction in this—the familiar cycle of the sun, the comfort of a routine, the predictable rhythm of an average day. This sense of knowing, of grounding, often acts as a necessary anchor in a chaotic world. Yet, as our modern culture has ramped up the gears of mass-production, that fine line between the familiar and the monotonous has all but dissolved. We are inundated with a sea of cheap sameness: products, services, ideas—all delivered to us at a relentless pace. In the wake of this cultural shift, and with the rapid, pervasive rise of artificial intelligence across all forms of media, the task of discerning the authentic from the algorithmic, the real from the fake, has become an exhausting, daily chore.

This is Real

This cultural backdrop is precisely what makes the arrival of “Tired” by Lewis Knudsen and Lainey Jean so impactful. Dropped quietly at the end of September, it is a distinctly REAL piece of music that cuts through the noise. It doesn’t scream for attention with flashy production or rely on viral trends; instead, it offers a moment of genuine, empathetic resonance.

Lewis Knudsen, a respected musician from the Illinois Quad Cities, has been honing his craft for years. His songwriting is consistently rooted in his own sincere life experiences, a biographical honesty that elevates his work beyond mere pop craft. While the material is deeply personal, he has a gift for crafting songs in a way that allows listeners to instantly find themselves within the lyrics, nodding their head in recognition of universal truths. It’s the kind of music that feels less like performance and more like shared conversation.

Partnering with him on this track is Lainey Jean, a relative newcomer from Rock Island, Illinois, whose passion for music deepened during the quiet, isolating moments of the COVID-19 pandemic. She has been actively performing and releasing music since 2024, and this collaboration proves she is an artist with a promising trajectory.

Cutting Through the Noise

The song “Tired” is, oddly enough, profoundly comforting. The title speaks directly to a collective fatigue. We are all worn down by the perpetual white noise of modern existence: the endless scroll of social media, the aggressive push of digital marketing, the dizzying, corrosive churn of pop culture and political vitriol. It’s an exhaustion that seeps into every facet of life. Sometimes, the weariness is the sheer volume of products relentlessly hawked to us; other times, it’s the superficiality of fake or forced interactions with people we see every day. The song captures this feeling of being constantly “on” and utterly drained by the effort.

Knudsen and Jean bring a beautiful, complementary contrast to the track. They both possess distinct voices—Knudsen’s perhaps offering a grounded, seasoned weariness, and Jean’s providing a brighter, more hopeful texture. Their vocal blend is superb, creating a soundscape where hope is delicately wrapped in the honest acknowledgment of everyday exhaustion. It’s not a song about giving up; it’s a song that says, “I see you, and it’s okay to feel this way.”

Like a Silent Prayer

Musically, the song is subtly arresting. Knudsen’s production choices are masterful in their restraint. I am particularly taken by how the repetitive, grounded verses—which musically mirror the monotony they describe—are broken by a stunning, cathartic flourish. The end of the verses is punctuated by a string of cello-like ascending notes. It’s a sonic signature that acts like a gasp of air or a moment of release, an aural representation of birds being set free to the sky, like a brief, silent prayer. This subtle musical detail provides the emotional climax of the song, transforming the simple word “tired” into a moment of graceful surrender and renewal.

In a media landscape increasingly populated by the synthesized and the superficial, “Tired” is a necessary act of musical resistance. It is a genuine, human connection presented as a beautifully arranged duet. Let’s sincerely hope this is far from the last collaboration between Lewis Knudsen and Lainey Jean. They have found a powerful synergy, and their voices are precisely what is needed to cut through the din of our increasingly automated world.


What other artists do you think successfully capture this feeling of modern digital fatigue in their music?

https://lewisknudsen.com

https://linktr.ee/laineyjean

A Surprise Reunion at Copper & Oak: Greg’s Solo Return to the Stage

October 11th turned into a pretty meaningful night for me at Copper & Oak Bourbon and Craft Beer Bar in Lincoln, IL. This time, it wasn’t Bell & Field—just me, a piano, and a setlist. It had been a while since I’d played a full solo show, and I’ll admit, the nerves were definitely there at soundcheck. But once people started settling in with their drinks and I hit the first few notes, it felt like coming home.

Settling In at Copper & Oak

Copper & Oak really fits what I love about playing live. It’s got that worn-in, wood-and-brick kind of look, shelves lined with more bourbons and craft beers than I could ever hope to try, and a staff that actually seems to enjoy the music instead of just tolerating it.

I set up inside, right by the open garage doors. That setup worked out perfectly—people at the bar and tables could see the piano, while the music carried out to the patio where folks were hanging out outside. Every time the breeze rolled through the open doors, it felt like the room took a deep breath with me.

Songs That Shaped the Night

I built the setlist around songs that I’ve leaned on for years, plus a few that always seem to land well in a room like this:

  • “Piano Man” – Billy Joel
  • “Your Song” – Elton John
  • “Take The Long Way Home” – Supertramp
  • “Operator” – Jim Croce

When I kicked into “Piano Man,” I had one of those classic musician moments: I reached for the harmonica that…was sitting at home on a different table entirely. I had forgotten it. But honestly, it didn’t throw things off. People were singing along, clapping, and the piano carried the song just fine on its own.

A Surprise in the Crowd

This show was my first solo performance in about a year, so there was a little mental checklist running in the back of my head: Do I still remember all the lyrics? How did I used to start this one? Once I got going, though, the muscle memory kicked in and I actually enjoyed the challenge of holding the room on my own again.

The moment that really stuck with me happened between songs. I looked up and noticed a familiar face in the crowd—my dad. He had driven two hours to be there and somehow managed to keep it completely under wraps. Earlier that day he’d even called me, pretending he wasn’t sure where Lincoln was, just to throw me off. Seeing him there, mixed in with the other listeners, meant a lot. It’s one thing to have a supportive audience; it’s another thing entirely when your dad quietly slips in and grabs a seat.

Looking Ahead: Bringing the Duo Back

The folks at Copper & Oak were locked in—listening, reacting, and giving back as much energy as I was putting out. That kind of crowd makes it easy to forget about nerves and just play. Nights like this remind me why we keep loading up the gear and driving to new towns.

I’ll be back at Copper & Oak in November, this time with Tom for a full Bell & Field duo show. I’m excited to bring the guitar into the mix and build on what started with this solo night. If you were there in October, I’d love to see you again—and if you missed it, November’s your shot.

Book Bell & Field for Your Own Event

Huge thanks to everyone who came out to support live music at Copper & Oak. If you’re planning a party, wedding, or any event that could use live acoustic music, we’d love to be part of it. Book us for your next event, and let’s put together a set that fits your night.

The Tallest Man on Earth in Iowa City – A Concert Review

Rocket Ride with The Still Tide

On Thursday, April 17th, in Iowa City the Englert Theater was filled with an undeniable energy, a palpable sense of anticipation that crackled through the historic venue. From the moment the opening band, The Still Tide, took the stage, it was clear the audience was in for a special night.
The Still Tide, a duo comprised of former Tallest Man on Earth guitar tech Anna Morsett and Joe Richmond, delivered a captivating performance. Richmond’s mastery of his homemade synthesizer created mesmerizing soundscapes, a perfect complement to Morsett’s soaring vocals and evocative lyrics.

Their set was a true “rocketship ride,” a dynamic journey that left the crowd buzzing with excitement. As a member of Bell & Field, I found myself particularly drawn to The Still Tide’s stage presence. Their ability to command attention and create such a powerful atmosphere is precisely the kind of energy our band strives to emulate at our own shows.

Dancing Just Above the Earth

But the night, of course, belonged to Kristian Matsson, the Swedish singer-songwriter known to the world as The Tallest Man on Earth. Born on April 30, 1983, in Leksand, Sweden, Matsson began his solo career in 2006. Before that, he was the lead singer of the indie band Montezumas. His music, often drawing comparisons to Bob Dylan, is characterized by its raw emotion, intricate guitar work, and poetic lyricism.
I’ve had the privilege of seeing The Tallest Man on Earth perform in Iowa City before, an experience that remains etched in my memory as the single greatest solo performance I have ever witnessed. Matsson is a self-proclaimed “hyperactive soul,” and this energy translates directly into his stage presence. He doesn’t merely stand and deliver his songs; he dances, he glides, he becomes one with the music. He implores the audience to join him, to connect with him, and to immerse themselves in the stories he weaves through his music.


And what stories they are. Matsson’s lyrics are like a child finger-painting their deepest emotions, expressed in bold slashes and delicate swirls. He has a remarkable ability to create entire galaxies with his words, vast and intricate worlds built from personal experiences and profound observations. His mastery of open tunings on his guitars contributes to this sonic tapestry, providing both sustain and unique tonal colors that add depth and texture to his compositions. It’s also worth noting the impressive array of guitars Matsson employs, many of them vintage instruments, each adding its own character to the sound. He also showcased his versatility with a couple of songs on the banjo and a beautiful rendition of “Henry St.” on the piano.


One of the true highlights of the evening was Matsson’s heartfelt introduction to the song “Major League.” He recounted his childhood experience of seeing the movie Major League and how it sparked an immediate desire to play baseball. He wryly noted that while baseball does exist in Sweden, “it’s just not very good,” delivering the line with his signature self-deprecating humor. Another standout moment was his stunning rendition of Adele’s “When We Were Young.” The emotional outpouring from Matsson resonated deeply with the Englert audience, a shared acknowledgment of “the strange and mean times we are living in,” as he poignantly observed. In that moment, the music transcended mere entertainment; it became a powerful source of connection, offering a much-needed sense of community.


The Setlist:

Fields of Our Home
This Wind
Every Little Heart
1904
Looking for Love
Into the Stream
Major League
I Won’t Be Found
The Gardener
The Dreamer (w/ Anna Morsett)
Deep Within
Like the Wheel
Love Is All
Henry St.
Revelation Blues
Rivers
King of Spain
When We Were Young
Kids on the Run


The Tallest Man on Earth’s performance at The Englert Theatre was more than just a concert; it was an experience. It was a reminder of the power of music to connect us, to heal us, and to transport us to other worlds.

 

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