by Jisu Sheen
Jisu Sheen photo
Rohn Lawrence Tribute Concert
Toad’s Place
New Haven
Sept. 14, 2025
Smooth jazz saxophonist Marion Meadows took a break from his righteous melodies Sunday night to tell the crowd at downtown music venue Toad’s Place to put their hands together for legendary guitarist and New Havener Rohn Lawrence.
Lawrence wasn’t up next. In fact, he wasn’t on the star-studded lineup — or, in a way, maybe he always was.
The beloved musician and mentor passed away in 2021. Sunday’s show was the third edition of a tribute concert featuring his old bandmates, fellow touring musicians, and friends. Toad’s Place was one of Lawrence’s well-loved old haunts, and for many in the crowd, his face on the screen behind the stage was a familiar sight.
Jackie Buster, the event’s organizer and Lawrence’s widow, took a moment to speak about the beneficiary of the night’s donations: integenerational community hub The Shack in New Haven’s West Hills neighborhood. She described educational programs for music, animation, tennis, boxing, and more, saying her favorite part was the chicken coop in the backyard.
The Shack is undergoing a $200,000 project to build a new studio, and Buster encouraged the audience to donate, buy raffle tickets, and purchase shirts and hoodies commemorating the event “so these kids can have a proper place to hone their crafts.” The clothing, complete with high-quality prints of Lawrence’s likeness, were made by Brenton Shumaker of Deadby5am.
“Don’t miss moments,” Buster urged the crowd, thinking both of her late husband and her mother, who passed shortly after the Rohn Lawrence tribute concert last year. She then took a turn at the mic, dedicating a song to both Lawrence and her mom.
“Well, the sun is surely sinkin’ down/ But the moon is slowly risin’/ So this old world must still be spinnin’ ’round/ And I still love you,” Buster sang from James Taylor’s 1971 ballad “You Can Close Your Eyes.” She took her voice to a heartbreaking, shimmering high register as she evoked memories from the audience.
The musicians passed the mic to each other under Toad’s Place’s rotating spotlights and the disco lights illuminating dots around the room. When singers converged on a note, they pointed — to each other, to the audience, to Rohn’s spirit above.
The crowd had their hands in the air, moving to the music. Smiles came easy, and attendees joined in the ad-libs, shouting out “Woo!” at the right moments. When the band played KC and The Sunshine Band’s “Get Down Tonight,” the whole room got up to dance.
As musicians made their way past each other under the blue and purple stage lights, their coolness and comfort with the stage was evident above all else. It was clear they lived and breathed music, scooping everything they could out of each note with ease. They embraced each other often, taking time to celebrate each others’ talents right there in the moment.
There was no rush, no need to package the songs neatly. The instrumentalists folded their sounds into each other for big intros and even bigger outros, complete with fakeout endings and drawn-out callbacks to earlier parts of the songs.
Sometimes they would sample classic riffs just for fun. At one point, the band ended one of their songs with an unabashed indulgence in Deep Purple’s iconic “Smoke on the Water” sequence.
Keyboardist Jay Rowe took a break from the keys to sing Lawrence’s praises at the mic, saying he was “like a brother that I idolized” and that he was always the coolest. “Rohn loved these guys,” Rowe said of the musicians on and off the stage.
When Tiffany “T’Zelle” Wilson got up to the mic to perform ‘70s soul hit “I Can’t Stand the Rain,” she teased the opening, knowing the crowd couldn’t wait to join in for those poetic first lines. She leaned into the drama, turning around with one hand in the air for a long “Rain…” before returning to the rhythm in a smooth, “Against my window.”
The brass and full-band sound powered the song with a funk engine, which Wilson underscored with punchy ad-libs. “Get off of my window!” she sang to the crowd, reminding them it was more than just a sultry, moody meditation.
“Can’t you just see Rohn Lawrence smiling down and saying, ‘Y’all some crazy people!’” said Veronica Douglas-Givan, the “Mistress of Ceremonies,” near the end of the night. She laughed, and the crowd laughed with her, remembering their friend. Lawrence might be gone, but it seems the music community in New Haven will make sure he’s not forgotten.