Boardwalk Riot! - Tim Barry Turns Crossroads Into Church

Tim Barry Turns Crossroads Into Church
Written by Patrice "Tree" Marion
September 6, 2026

Tim Barry doesn’t need much to put on a show—an acoustic guitar, a microphone, a beer sitting on a speaker, a guitar case on the floor behind him, and low lights.

Last Saturday, Crossroads in Garwood, NJ, was filled with familiar faces, familiar songs, and the kind of audience that doesn’t simply watch Tim Barry perform. They participate. Barry’s first appearance at the venue since the release of Clear Blocks Ahead wasn’t about unveiling an entirely new set. It was about the songs that have already become part of the fabric of these shows, with a few new ones finding their way into the night.

I hadn’t seen Barry since four back-to-back shows down south with Chuck Ragan and Cory Branan that we affectionately dubbed the “Mini Revival Revival”. Those shows were where I first heard a very early live version of “W.W. Pool”, long before I knew exactly what the song would become. We jokingly called it the “Hollywood vampire song,” but somewhere along the way it became one of my favorite of his songs.

So hearing it again at Crossroads was different. By then, I knew the words, and so did a lot of the people around me.

That’s one of the strange and wonderful things about a Tim Barry show. His songs may have been written by one person, but once they’ve lived with you long enough, they stop belonging entirely to him.

The set moved through the songs people came for—the ones that have become fixtures of these nights. “Fine Foods Market”, “Ronnie’s Song” and “Exit Wounds” made the cut. Songs that can feel deeply personal when you hear them alone suddenly become communal when voices are singing them back.

Then came “Church of Level Track.”

It’s one of those songs that seems to have taken on a life of its own within this community. When Barry reached the chorus, singing, “And if I die trying now I won’t die wondering how life could have turned out,” he stopped and looked out at the room.

“Does that make sense?”

The response was immediate.

“Yeah!”

That is the exchange at the heart of a Tim Barry show: he gives us the songs, and we give them back to him. Eventually, he gives us the microphone stand. At some point during the set, Barry handed it out into the crowd, turning whoever happened to be closest into an impromptu roadie. He stepped off the stage with his guitar and moved into the audience.

For those songs, the audience becomes the band. Barry can strip everything down to the absolute essentials because he knows the room will fill in the rest. There are no elaborate arrangements to hide behind, no production tricks, no wall of sound. Just his guitar and the voices around him.

Down south, he joked about us becoming the “Atlanta Men’s Choir.” At Crossroads, the choir was back, and nobody needed sheet music. “W.W. Pool” was one of those songs. I knew the words before the album came out, but standing at Crossroads and hearing the room sing it back to Barry was something else entirely.

I turned around. There were people behind me singing every word. I smiled. Then I got goosebumps running up and down my arms. It made me love the song even more.

“Avoiding Catatonic Surrender”—everyone knows what’s coming. There’s a moment when Barry takes a sip of his beer, and the room erupts. And then it’s over. The guitar goes away. The microphone stand comes back.

But the songs stay.

Thank you, Tim, for all the songs. We’re so glad you came.

Barry has more shows ahead, including dates with Brian Fallon, The Fest in Gainesville next month, and his annual hometown November fest before he, Frank Turner, Chuck Ragan, and Ben Nichols revive the Revival Tour in December!

And, as always, I’ll save you a spot at the next show!

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