He’s been described as “the love child of Sam Cooke and Mississippi John Hurt.” “The John Legend of rockabilly.” And recently, “a ‘what-took-you-so-long’ fusion of Elvis and Marvin Gaye.” But he is Dwayne Haggins, and his voice is his own. For Dwayne, every performance is a mission of discovery – of self and of song. Whether on the stage of a metropolitan concert hall or the makeshift bandstand of a neighborhood dive, you will find him exploring uncharted musical territories, listening for new ways to stir his influences into this night’s expression of his unique sound – strangely familiar, naturally mysterious, unmistakably his own.
The exponential growth of his devoted audience likely signals that a move to larger venues is inevitable, and perhaps imminent. Which is no doubt one reason why Dwayne’s recent shows in local venues have taken on a new intensity, a sense of immense potential chafing at the limits of its current constraints. These days, each performance feels like a special occasion, a chance perhaps to experience the end of the beginning, the last page of prologue to a brand new story that already has the makings of a modern classic.