BY ROXANA HADADI / PHOTOS BY ADAM FRIED

Don't underestimate Rocky Votolato. Sure, the singer-songwriter might be on the petite side, but his compact size shouldn't fool you: The man is a whirlwind of impassioned energy that whipped the packed DC9 crowd on Sunday, April 11, into an indie rock-loving frenzy.

Well, as frenzied as you can get for songs about love, loss, isolation and the American dream. Oh, and whiskey. Lots and lots of whiskey.

For years, Votolato was in Waxwing, a band that fused folk and punk; since 1999, he's been trekking it solo-style, releasing a plethora of different albums - including the much-loved Suicide Medicine, released in 2003, and Makers, released in 2006, as well as his latest, February's True Devotion - that capture a gradually developed, increasingly articulate sound which focuses on Votolato's sparsely acoustic instrumentation and insightful, aching lyrics and vocals. And both of those were on full display at DC9, where a crowd of rabidly devoted hipsters (honestly, who else would be there?) sang along to practically every word, shouted out requests and made a modest Votolato practically bashful from all the praise. There might have been some blushing. Anything is possible.

After an opening set from pianist-singer Brooke Waggoner and her friend Ben accompanying her on guitar and lap steel (think folk-pop songs about birds, faith, love, etc.), Votolato took the stage at about 10:15 p.m., but with ... basically nothing. Though a high-backed, weathered wooden chair held three guitar picks and four harmonicas, the only other things onstage were the mic stand and Votolato himself, strapped with a guitar and harmonica mouthpiece. It was meager but all the more intimate because of it, an assurance that nothing would come between Votolato and his fans - the kind of show that seems personalized and molded just for you.

Of course, the encore of three songs requested by the crowd helped. Yelling cadres of fans sure can get their way.

But before all that came a 14-song set that grabbed from nearly all of Votolato's solo albums, such as 2002's Burning My Travels Clean, the aforementioned Suicide Medicine and Makers and 2007's The Brag and Cuss, and was balanced between the musician's more well-known older songs and newer tracks. Things started off with "Alabaster" from Suicide Medicine, which Votolato introduced as "a song about a man on a spiritual journey." The song was a steady example of the night to come: An intensely passionate Votolato, an awestruck audience, a song about finding oneself in a world ready to tear it apart ("But I feel my strength returning tonight ... It spills out onto an ocean where the sharks are circling/ A carnival of counterfeits want to crucify something real"). If Votolato's ruminations on life could be a cult's doctrine, every cutoff-wearing kid in DC9 that night would have been dashing past each other in their Toms and Vans, wondering where they could sign up. 

Honestly, the whole set could be described that way. Take tracks like "Lucky Clover Coin" and "Eyes Like Static" from his latest album, which transcribe hauntingly romantic emotions ("I'll put your broken pieces together/ For the rest of my life" and "I hope you'll be OK, baby/ Please tell me if you're gonna be alright/ I know what I've broken, and that it's not easy/ But I'll stay up with you all night," respectively) in the most heartbreaking of ways.

Or, consider the crowd's two favorite songs, "Suicide Medicine" and "Makers," which caused robust sing-along reactions. Though vastly different in structure - the first being an up-tempo analysis of mental illness ("Is it the red wire or the blue wire?/ Just pick one and cut/ It just doesn't matter anymore/ Or did it ever?"), and the second a resigned acceptance of what's to come ("Heaven or heavenless/ We're all headed for the same sweet darkness") - each created an almost riotously pleased environment, the kind of frenetic energy that crackles in a room united in its adoration of something. Remember that whole Votolato-being-bashful thing? Insert that here.

And though most of Votolato's songs deal with heavy subject matter, that couldn't kill the night's buzz. Whether it was his cover of Cat Stevens' "Father and Son" or his own songs "Sparklers," "Portland is Leaving" and "White Daisy Passing," all mused on the ephemeral quality of life and time. There may be only six words in the line "Sparklers only burn for so long," but its weight is far more tragic - and based on the crowd reaction to "White Daisy Passing," which was featured on "The O.C.," the audience may have fully known the all-encompassing devotion Votolato was singing about.

But if not, Votolato himself provided another example to the masses: April 9 also happened to be his wife April's birthday, and as he brought her onstage, the look shared between husband and wife was indescribably heartwarming. As the crowd sang her "Happy Birthday" and Votolato gestured toward the chocolate cake studded with candles that Waggoner's guitar player Ben brought onstage and joked, "You're gonna blow ‘em out, dammit!" it was a peek into the life that inspires the singer-songwriter every day. He may have explained, "She puts up with my shit all the time," but based on the audience that night, anyone would have gladly switched places with her. OK, maybe not all the guys. But the girls, and this one in particular? Definitely. 

Photographer Adam Fried also posted videos of three songs from this show to YouTube. Check ‘em out:

"Suicide Medicine"

"Makers"

"Silver Trees"