Watchhouse • Frail Talk • July 13, 2025 • Red Butte Garden Amphitheater
Reviewed and Photographed by Austin Dayton
Nestled amid the trees and foothills of the Wasatch Front, one can find one of the best Venues in all of Utah, Red Butte Garden Amphitheater. Last weekend, Folk band Watchhouse took that foliage-surrounded stage and turned the quiet hillside into a sanctuary of sound. With subtle and sweet melodies, intimate lyrics, and musicianship that could stop someone in their tracks, the North Carolina-based folk duo shared a performance that felt more like a neighborhood gathering than a concert. Setting up the evening to be even more memorable, a stirring supporting set from Colorado-based indie folk group Frail Talk was in store.
As the crowd filed in through the red rock gates and onto the lush grass of Red Butte Garden, the mood was joyful and relaxed. Lawn chairs and picnic baskets were toted while others sipped from cans of wine, all in search of the perfect spot. The Wasatch Mountains, glowing as the sun dipped towards the lake, loomed gently to the left of the stage, and the setting sun painted the sky in soft peach and lavender clouds. It seemed to be the exact opposite of their show just a year earlier, where the band played surrounded by high-rise offices in downtown Salt Lake City.
Fail Talk
Hailing from Northern Colorado, Fail Talk opened the evening with a quiet confidence that quickly won over the chatting crowd. Their music seemed to be a blend of indie-folk and soft Americana, providing music that was intimate and yet in the best way, fragile, full of layered harmony and diversity. Vocalist Alex Woodchek’s voice was hauntingly expressive, and her cohesion with bandmate Corban Wright created moments of incredible balance. Songs like “New Joy” and “Hollow Homes” felt deeply personal, yet at the same time, instantly relatable.
Though relatively new to the national touring circuit, Frail Talk played with the grace of seasoned artists, drawing earnest applause from a crowd that was still settling into the lawn. By the time they stepped off stage, they had set the tone beautifully: contemplative, grounded, and ready for Watchhouse.
Watchhouse
As dusk continued, Emily Frantz and Andrew of Watchhouse appeared from the side of the stage with no fanfare. Dressed like they were at a BBQ with their friends (3,000 of them), with acoustic instruments in hand, they let the music speak first. They opened with “In the Sun,” a song that immediately showcased their gift for emotional depth wrapped in an understated arrangement. Marlin’s mandolin danced in intricate, delicate lines while Frantz’s fiddle and harmony grounded the performance with an earthy resonance. Their chemistry—born of years of collaboration and marriage—was quiet but palpable.
Watchhouse’s set was built to be an artful journey through their evolving discography. Drawing all the way from their albums when they were named Mandolin Orange, to their 2021 self-titled album Watchhouse, and now their new 2025 release Rituals, they moved effortlessly between wanting and haunting ballads, then flowing into subtly rhythmic folk meditations. “Belly of the Beast” came early in the set, rising slowly and wrapping around the amphitheater like a lullaby for grown-ups. “Beautiful Flowers” followed, with Frantz on lead vocals and violin, her delivery held firm as the violin intertwined perfectly with her flawless voice.
The duo was joined onstage by supporting musicians on upright bass, guitar, and drums, and their contributions added a deep richness to the arrangements. It was a reminder that Watchhouse isn’t just a folk band—they’re focused composers of a specific folk atmosphere. The supporting band in particular stood out during “Echo,” adding a mournful instrumental that lingered long after the final note.
Between songs, Marlin and Frantz kept stage banter to a minimum, but the few stories they shared drew laughs and sighs. Marlin took a moment to give Utahns some accolades for being able to handle 100 degrees in the day and a 25-degree temp drop at night, something he was not accustomed to in North Carolina, joking that it only drops one degree at home. The connection between band and audience was unspoken but tangible, one of mutual respect and shared vulnerability, with Frantz pointing out multiple times how “sat” and “present” the audience was.
One of the most powerful moments of the night came during “Hey Stranger.” As Marlin sang of hope, loss, and renewal, the amphitheater sat in near-total silence. A young couple danced barefoot in the grass, the only ones standing at the time, silhouetted against the hill of flowers leading up to the open stage and the bright blue stage lights. The song’s final notes drifted into the night air like smoke. It seemed to be a moment you would hope to remember long after the show ended.
Red Butte Garden did exactly what you would hope it would, proving to be the perfect venue for this kind of folk performance. The natural amphitheater, built by the trees and hills that allowed every nuance of the music to reach the audience clearly, without overwhelming volume. And if you happened to look to your left, it felt like the mountains might just be listening too. The acoustics were clean and crisp, the crowd was “sat”, and the atmosphere remained reverent and hopeful.
The main set closed with “Wildfire,” one of Watchhouse’s most beloved and emotionally resonant songs. It’s slow build and aching harmonies washed over the crowd like waves. By the time they reached the final chorus, much of the lawn was standing—not to dance wildly, but to share in the weight and emotion of the song. A song that, upon reflection, seems more relevant every year they sing it. The applause afterward was thunderous in its sincerity, the kind of ovation that says “thank you” more than “more, please.”
As Watchhouse quietly exited the stage, they did so fraudulently; they had to know from the cheers and applause that they would be back on stage for the encore within minutes.
Upon reflection of the night it truly did feel as if Watchhouse had come over for a night with dear friends. Having been to Utah four times before, it was truly special to be there for the first time, as they had brought with them a new album. A gift that they graciously brought with their signature melancholy hope. In an age of overstimulation and division, Watchhouse offered something quieter—and infinitely more valuable: a chance to feel deeply, together, in a beautiful place.
