A rousing St. Paul and the Broken Bones takes The Sound to church

by Donovan Roche • Special to Times of San Diego

An imposing man stands on a stage and sings to an audience with a band behind him.
An imposing man stands on a stage and sings to an audience with a band behind him.
St. Paul & the Broken Bones performing at The Sound in Del Mar on April 10, 2026. (Photo by Donovan Roche/Times of San Diego)

St. Paul & The Broken Bones delivered a powerful message one day before Easter, filling The Sound on April 4 with one of its fullest houses in recent memory. From the opening chords, the eight-piece band tapped into a higher power, and it clearly resonated with the crowd.

After an extended instrumental jam, the first of several throughout the night, frontman Paul Janeway emerged in a white suit, black shirt and eye-catching sequined slip-ons. He stepped to the mic and launched into “Nothing More Lonely,” a midtempo treat that immediately showcased the bespectacled singer’s extraordinary voice.

By the second song, Janeway’s playful personality was on full display. Looking more like a substitute math teacher than a soul man, he shuffled and swayed through “Flow With It (You Got Me Feeling Like),” teasing the crowd with a grin and tantalizing: “Not yet!”

A native of Chelsea, Alabama, Janeway nearly followed in his father’s footsteps to become a preacher, hence the nickname “St. Paul.” Instead, he found his calling behind a mic and started sharing the gospel another way. And thank God that he did, because that he took The Sound to church.

On the bluesy “Ooo-Wee,” one of many songs they’d play from the group’s excellent self-titled sixth studio album released last year, Janeway “saw the light” and strutted across the stage. The song culminated with a searing solo from guitarist Browan Lollar.

The resplendent “Fall Moon” underscored the band’s tightness. From keyboardist Al Gamble’s jaunty intro and drummer Kevin Leon’s steady backbeat to a three-piece horn section that could give Earth, Wind & Fire a run for their money, the ensemble shined.

Revisiting their gospel roots, St. Paul breathed new life into the plaintive “Call Me,” from their 2014 debut, “Half the City.” With Janeway chanting, “I need, I need, I need, I need you, baby!” it sounded like a lost Al Green classic finally unearthed from the vault.

Approaching the heart of the 17-song set, Janeway brought the room to a hush with the soul-stirring ballad “Grass is Greener,” also from the first album. The singer had already shown us his control and command; this song put the spotlight on his formidable range — stretching from a tender croon to a towering, sustained note that stopped time.

Dropping to his knees, he sealed the moment with a moving falsetto finish. Leaning into “Sushi and Coca-Cola” — the neo-soul vibe akin to Teddy Swims that gave the band its first No. 1 hit — Janeway was all smiles, joyously dancing to the catchy groove and brass flourishes. The moment was a testament to how far they’d come.

Forming in Birmingham in 2012, St. Paul & The Broken Bones blend Janeway’s gospel background with classic R&B, soul, blues and rock to forge a powerhouse octet. To date, they’ve released six studio albums and four live collections, including February’s “Live at Southern Grooves.” For more than a decade, they’ve built a reputation on delivering high-energy, uplifting live performances and tonight was no exception.

Donning a shimmering silver robe for the final stretch, Janeway shifted from preacher to prophet. Highlights included “Stars Above” and the set-closing “Apollo,” a space-age love song from 2018’s “Young Sick Camellia.” Like the earlier “GotItBad” from the same album, the disco-infused dance track roused the crowd.

Janeway teased one more song, telling the congregation he felt the need to join them. Followed by a stagehand carrying a tall ladder, he made his way to the center of the throng and climbed to his perch, where he closed the 90-minute set with the slow- building spiritual “Sanctify.”

Bathed in diffused white light, robe cascading over the rungs, Janeway appeared to hover above his flock.

With arms reaching for the heavens, he belted, “Let me sanctify ya, baby! and the room erupted in rapturous hoots and hollers. As the final notes lingered, something deep had taken hold, and the feeling hung in the air.

Janeway proved you don’t need a pulpit to raise spirits — just an ethereal voice, a dynamic band and a space full of willing followers.

Donovan Roche is a longtime music writer and regular contributor to Times of San Diego.

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