The first instrument that attracted the attention of Durham-born, Garner-raised Rob Watson was the drum set owned by his babysitter's son, but what really got him into music was singing in the church. From those loud and holy beginnings, Watson has grown into one of the most versatile musicians in the area, starting with the late heavy trio Abby 6 and reaching the point where he's now making room for four musical outlets. He brings the songs from his terrific album To Trade Hands to life both in a solo setting and with a local-star-stocked band. He unveils his goofy side in the Oblivious Ac... (+) expand

The first instrument that attracted the attention of Durham-born, Garner-raised Rob Watson was the drum set owned by his babysitter's son, but what really got him into music was singing in the church. From those loud and holy beginnings, Watson has grown into one of the most versatile musicians in the area, starting with the late heavy trio Abby 6 and reaching the point where he's now making room for four musical outlets. He brings the songs from his terrific album To Trade Hands to life both in a solo setting and with a local-star-stocked band. He unveils his goofy side in the Oblivious Action Figures, a three-piece whose song titles--"Gangsta Smurph," "Vowel Movement"--gently suggest that this might not be a deathly serious outfit, just in case the afro wigs didn't tip you off. And his newest venture, a gospel group named The Whistlestop, was formed with a co-worker during their carpool drives and inspired by a gospel tape Watson's grandmother made for her brother back in the day. ("It's music that's definitely inside me," he says.) As different as all these are, at the center of each is Watson's elastic voice, a marvel of an instrument that enables him to be whatever the song calls for--an amphitheatre troubadour, a modern rock hero, a neo-soulster, a costumed crusader, a country preacher--with flights of falsetto taking off at regular intervals.
--Rick Cornell
Independent Weekly (-) collapse