BY ROXANA HADADI ; PHOTOS BY ADAM FRIED

William Elliott Whitmore isn't dumb. He knew that barely any people at the sold-out Chris Cornell show on April 17 at Sixth and I Synagogue in Washington, D.C., were there to actually see him, an opener added at the last minute to Cornell's nationwide acoustic tour.

In fact, the seven songs Whitmore performed during his brief, 28-minute opening set were "all new to most of you," Whitmore joked while introducing a new song, "Don't Need It," which was only truly "new to like, four of you." Modest and somewhat self-deprecating? That's just Whitmore's way - the blues- and folk-influenced, gritty singer-songwriter is more than accommodating during his shows, thanking everyone and acknowledging his luck at being able to play music for a living. Nearly everyone at Sixth and I that Sunday night had no idea who Whitmore was, but did that stop the guy from delivering a blisteringly good set that makes us look forward to his upcoming July release, Field Songs? Of course not.

Whitmore packed a lot of punch into his seven songs, despite performing with just a kick drum, guitar and banjo. Sitting on a stool and bathed in eerie red light, Whitmore started off with no preamble, launching right into "From the Cell Door to the Gallows," from 2003's Hymn for the Hopeless. "Well, I heard six shots ring out in succession/ And it broke the night air like a china plate/ And in my knife blade I saw my own reflection/ And the devil was at the front gate," sang a scruff-sporting Whitmore, who barely paused before then jumping into "Diggin' My Grave," from 2005's Ashes to Dust.

By now, people were kind of getting into it - there were fewer questioning murmurs from the audience, more appreciative nods - and Whitmore got more intense, too, his voice taking on an anguish that was mirrored in the urgent thump of his kick drum. The acoustics in Sixth and I were amazing that night, allowing every strummed chord and sung verse to perfectly reach the audience, and Whitmore benefited greatly from that clarity. "Oh, how I wish that I could have stayed," Whitmore lamented, "But the hole is made/ Oh, lord, the hole is made." After the regretful song's conclusion is when Whitmore chose to make his move, unleashing his customary charm on the audience: "Thank you, friends," Whitmore gushed. "Thank you for listening."

But if you've seen Whitmore before, you know he's not just polite - he can be undeniably heart-warming, too, as listeners learned when Whitmore announced his next song would be "about the first hobo I ever met," the "coolest motherfucker" Whitmore knew. "This song is for Hub Cale," Whitmore announced, transitioning into "Lift My Jug (Song for Hub Cale)," also off Ashes to Dust, the only truly up-tempo song in his lineup that night. An homage to Hub Cale's free spirit while simultaneously an attack on the institutions that made him that way - the anti-The Man sentiment is typical in Whitmore's songs, which often sound like a John Steinbeck novel set to music - "Lift My Jug" won the audience over, even as its lyrics grow more depressing. "I made my livin' shovelin' coal/ Paid my dues for 12 long years/ Then one day they let me go/ And that time it sure was rough/ And the labor sure took its toll," Whitmore sang, and when the audience clapped afterward, they were certainly more welcoming than they'd been just minutes before.

And really, minutes is all the audience had left with Whitmore - three songs in, he was already about halfway done with his allotted time. Next up was "Hell or High Water" off 2009's Animals in the Dark, which Whitmore prefaced by admitting it was the "first time I've been in a synagogue - anyone else?" To be fair, though, he doesn't "get into churches much," either. Then there was "Hard Times," also from Animals in the Dark, which Whitmore dedicated to a friend named Chris - "Uh, yeah, different Chris," he said sheepishly, referring to Cornell - and used as an opportunity to explain the benefits of personal challenges and obstacles ("You don't want an easy life, ‘cause then you wouldn't have any character, you know?"). And then there was "Don't Need It" from the coming-soon Field Songs, which followed Whitmore's everyman theme: "I'm gonna keep the rain off my head/ I'm gonna keep the mosquitos from getting fed/ I don't need them at all/ No, not at all," he crooned, a tantalizing glimpse into the kind of angry-workers'-field-songs fans will be getting in a few months' time.

And just like that, nearly 25 minutes had passed, bringing Whitmore to his closer, "Old Devils," the first single from Animals in the Dark. As he extolled against politicians' and corporations' evils and how they bring about "desperation, death and despair" for everyone else, Whitmore got more and more frenzied, snarling final lines like, "I guess I will confess that I've been suffering/ The old devils are at it again ... Who knows what they'll do?" Who knows, indeed.