Considering that it's one of the most stable professional venues in the city, there's an eerie tendency at the Metro for the mechanics of the place to become tangled with unfriendly results. Tonight's example was a doozy: make it compulsory to cloak bags AND charge punters three bucks for the privilege. Although it's possible that the crossed wiring existed solely in the mind of one endearingly confused security guard, that would go against the working theory that the venue will soon be issuing oxygen masks (with attached meters) at the door, thus allowing them to charge by the lungful.
Not that they would have made too much tonight, a sparse constellation of starry-eyed lasses and beardy-faced lads arrived right on time, to sit cross-legged and stare wanly up at Brunswick-ites Husky. With a sound that seems to encapsulate perfectly the nostalgic rural folk in vogue thanks to the likes of Fleet Foxes (which allowed them to get away with a rather nice cover of America’s ‘A Horse With No Name’), it’s unsurprising that their warm vocal harmonies and solid, albeit workmanlike, songwriting was well received – though the Matt Bellamy-channelling keyboard solo that at one point spontaneously erupted seemed rather unnecessary.
Earlier fears of the venue being strewn with naught but tumbleweed courtesy of the competition over at OAF (Wild Beasts) proved unfounded by the time Devendra Banhart (Patron Saint of Jesus Beards, Journeys-To-Find-Oneself and Hacky Sack) took the stage. A group of acolytes as diverse as they were enthusiastic managed to generate the kind of coming-together-love-fest vibe not normally seen outside of American teen dramas. Looking considerably more clean-cut these days than indie mythology might have one believe, Banhart didn’t really hit his stride tonight until backing band The Grogs left him to it for a bit, his quavering solo croon setting hearts (and ovaries) trembling. Make no mistake: Banhart is the real deal, a consummate performer and patchouli-scented heart throb, whose at times patchy songwriting is more than compensated for by a live presence both inimitable and utterly magnetic.
A reduced version of this was published in The Brag, Iss. 424, August 8th 2011
Showing posts with label Devendra Banhart. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Devendra Banhart. Show all posts
Monday, August 8, 2011
Monday, June 20, 2011
Vetiver - The Errant Charm
The Errant Charm is Vetiver’s fifth full-length release since their self-titled debut back in 2004. The first two largely lived up to the freak-folk moniker that rubbed off from a productive symbiotic relationship with Devendra Banhart, playing The Band to his Dylan, before Vetiver’s songsmith Andy Cabic flaunted his musical erudition with Thing Of The Past – an unassuming but sublime collection of covers of the folk-pop of yesteryear (c. ’68-’73). 2009’s Tight Knit bore the fruits of this back catalogue-mining, and Cabic’s latest collection continues the trend; it’s an exquisitely mellow crop of chillaxed day-glo pop.
Opener ‘It’s Beyond Me’ sets the tone, with Cabic “just a passerby” watching “shameless games”; “I used to understand them / til the rules were changed” he sings, vocals blending inconspicuously into the mix, washed over by quavering licks of pedal steel before Cabic ultimately admits defeat with a bemused smile in the face of the world’s fickle moods, remaining aloof in a world of his own. Things don’t stay downbeat for long, as Cabic muses on receiving the blunt end of reality’s stick (‘Wonder Why’) or getting ready to fight back (‘Can’t You Tell’), with both tracks benefiting from his talent for concocting instantly catchy hooks.
Elsewhere, ‘Right Away’ exhibits pleasing country inflections, though nowhere near the degree of the pounding stomp of ‘Ride Ride Ride’ – it would be difficult to accuse Cabic of originality, but that’s hardly the purpose of the exercise. Before its dissolution in the lava-lamp-lit glow of ‘Soft Glass’, The Errant Charm manages to encapsulate the spirit of searching whimsy that’s suggested by its title.
The Errant Charm is a record that demands to be lived with, its depths slowly revealed a dozen spins down the line.
First published in The Brag, Iss. 417, June 20th 2011
Opener ‘It’s Beyond Me’ sets the tone, with Cabic “just a passerby” watching “shameless games”; “I used to understand them / til the rules were changed” he sings, vocals blending inconspicuously into the mix, washed over by quavering licks of pedal steel before Cabic ultimately admits defeat with a bemused smile in the face of the world’s fickle moods, remaining aloof in a world of his own. Things don’t stay downbeat for long, as Cabic muses on receiving the blunt end of reality’s stick (‘Wonder Why’) or getting ready to fight back (‘Can’t You Tell’), with both tracks benefiting from his talent for concocting instantly catchy hooks.
Elsewhere, ‘Right Away’ exhibits pleasing country inflections, though nowhere near the degree of the pounding stomp of ‘Ride Ride Ride’ – it would be difficult to accuse Cabic of originality, but that’s hardly the purpose of the exercise. Before its dissolution in the lava-lamp-lit glow of ‘Soft Glass’, The Errant Charm manages to encapsulate the spirit of searching whimsy that’s suggested by its title.
The Errant Charm is a record that demands to be lived with, its depths slowly revealed a dozen spins down the line.
First published in The Brag, Iss. 417, June 20th 2011
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)