Ray Weaver Brings Anger, and Hope, to Ram’s Head for “One Night, One Room”
Angry young men get the headlines. But underestimate an angry old man at your peril.
Earlier this week, Annapolis favorite Ray Weaver returned from Denmark for a special “One Night, One Room” show at the Rams Head On Stage, built around what he called “songs for those who still have hope.”
It was State of the Union night down Route 50 in Washington, D.C. Before playing a note, Weaver addressed the room: “Ladies and gentlemen, the state of our union is complicated. And tender. Tonight’s show — songs of conscience — is for those looking for honesty and determined to speak their hearts. Because it’s not about where we are now… it’s about who we want to be.”
The evening opened with members of the Songbird Collective — Madisun Baily, Laura Brino, and Meg Murray — three women, three guitars, each taking a turn at her own original songs. The contrasts were striking: Brino’s voice clear and pure, Baily’s more rugged and earthy. The set was enthusiastically received by an eager room. It was a gentle beginning. What followed was not.
He opened with the unflinching “Say His Name,” originally written in tribute to George Floyd and now expanded to name Alex Pretti and Renee Good — underscoring that the roll call continues. Accompanied only by Todd Kamens on trumpet, there was nothing to soften the words:
“Say his name, say his name
Make it viral, make it burn
…
If we all stay silent, then we’re all to blame”
The sound widened as Weaver was joined by an all-star band of Annapolis musicians: Herbie Wheatley on saxophone and flute, John Vengrouskie on guitar, Mike Vinson on bass, Pete Kaster on drums, Drea Lynn on vocals, and Cecilia Weller on violin.
“The Blood Is Never on Their Hands,” propelled by a piercing violin line from Cecilia Weller and a powerful backing vocal from Drea Lynn, took aim at those who issue commands from a safe remove:
“They never live with the consequences
The blood is never on their hands”
“In Case They’re Gone” focused on immigrant families preparing for possible arrest and deportation. “Haunted Road,” about violence against Indigenous women in Canada, was equally unsparing. These were direct songs — focused, powerful, and memorable — at times closer to reporting than to his usual storytelling.
At the end of the set, Weaver mashed Buffalo Springfield’s “For What It’s Worth” with his own “Resist,” linking one era of protest to another. It wasn’t nostalgia. It was alignment.
By the time he sang the closing lines of “Resist”:
“You tweeted 49,000 words today, 49,000 lies
…
I know the cost of freedom
I resist”
the crowd was fully engaged.
Weaver was playing to a home crowd. These were longtime supporters and neighbors who came expecting — and wanting — to hear these songs. Someone wandering in off the street might have bristled at the directness. Inside the room, the message landed as affirmation.
Weaver made no effort to moderate his message. He sang the songs as written and let the chips fall where they might.
For the encore, Weaver closed with the Youngbloods’ “Get Together.” Baily, Murray, and Brino came back onstage, joining him as the entire room stood and sang:
“You hold the key to love and fear
All in your trembling hand”
Twice in one evening, Weaver reached back half a century — demonstrating that today’s arguments are far from new.
Not everything in the set was political. Weaver is a gifted writer of love songs — “She Is My Shelter” was warm and unforced — and a vivid chronicler of youth and place, heard in “Grandma’s Farm,” “Naptown Saturday Night,” and “Chesapeake Son.” But shifting between personal memory and political urgency sometimes diluted the cumulative force. Grouped together, the protest songs might have hit even harder.
Weaver’s conviction never wavered. His anger isn’t flashy. It’s grounded and deliberate. In a room gathered for songs of conscience, he delivered what he promised. The evening felt less like nostalgia and more like resolve — shared, sung, and unmistakable.
Enjoy some of our previous coverage here: Song Premiere: Ray Weaver “The Blood is Never on Their Hands”
Mark Pelavin, a failed retiree, is a writer, consultant and music in St. Michaels, MD. His newsletter, A Feather in the Wind, is at https://markpelavin.substack.com/.