St. Vincent
by Alex Danger Stewart
What:St. Vincent w/ Wildbirds and Peacedrums
Where: The Metro, Chicago, IL
When: 9pm, February 18, 2010
Who: Myself, the bands, that Andrew fellow, this girl named Matti, I think Greg was there, hundreds of others
How Much Did it Cost? $21 cause I was a rube and bought my tickets online instead of going to the box office
[quote]You guys only like her so much because she’s a girl.” [/quote]
A friend recently threw this barb at a group of fellows who were ganging up on her because she wasn’t as completely enamored with the music of St. Vincent as the rest of us. She said it jokingly but I’m going to pretend it wasn’t. Indie pop is serious business. That said, I completely reject the notion that I only enjoy St. Vincent to the extent that I do because Annie Clark is a (beautiful) lady. Sure, I’d love to have her appear on my upcoming reality TV show Let Me Take You out to Dinner. I would also very much enjoy it if she were to appear on the premium cable spin-off Touch Me in Dirty Places*, but that has very little bearing on whether or not I like to listen to her music with pretty solid frequency (I do). I didn’t name Actor as my number one album of 2009 because its creator is really, really cute. I did so because I thought it was a better album than all of the others released in that year (or at least of all of those I listened to). How would my lady readers feel if I suggested that the largest factor in making them semi-rabid Andrew Bird (who has a somewhat similar style) fans was his existence as a very handsome gentleman? Because he totally is (Side note: If someone asked me, “Danger, would you like to kiss Andrew Bird on the mouth?” I would consider the matter and reply, “Why? Did he say something about me?”) My guess is that they would reject the assertion and insist that they enjoy his music on a purely auditory basis. I do the same with St Vincent. The music is incredibly good and the fact that the person creating the music is very attractive is only an ancillary added bonus. Plus the title of St Vincent’s first album was an Arrested Development reference. That’s fucking awesome.
With all of that in mind, I made my way to the scenic Wrigleyville neighborhood and the historic Metro on Thursday, February 18. I’m normally very reluctant to go anywhere on Thursday nights because my Thursday night TV shows are on. Luckily the god damn Olympics were happening so none of my NBC shows were airing that week and it wasn’t that big of a deal if I missed Project Runway. Plus it’s a concert! I often enjoy those. Through that confluence of factors I found myself standing in line at the Metro, ready to hear incredible music and other such things.
The other such things were provided by the opening act Wildbirds & Peacedrums. I don’t want to say that Wb&Pd were bad. They were clearly very competent musicians. The drummer was especially skilled and his level of limb independence was most impressive. I’m going to attribute my entirely nonplussed reaction to their set to the fact that they’re from Sweden and therefore completely insane (It’s ok. I have a friend in Sweden. His name is Dan). I just didn’t understand their crazy Euro point of view that made it seem like music consisting of a drum kit, vocals, and a steel drum would be compelling; and not just kind of odd and a very good time to make the mistake of trying that vanilla flavored Smirnoff the bar had on sale. Apparently the new Vampire Weekend album isn’t exceedingly dissimilar. I don’t like Vampire Weekend.
[quote]
We are waiting on a telegram to give us news of the fall. I am sorry to report dear Paris is burning after all”[/quote]
Maybe the most initially striking thing about St. Vincent is the depth of the music. It’s certainly very outwardly impressive. There is a very strong visceral reaction to the way that songs like “Jesus Saves, I Spend,” or “The Strangers” alternately float and burn. What is somewhat surprising and, in many ways, more compelling is the way that the essential elements of the songs are strong enough to be stripped of almost everything else. For the encore Clark pulled out a Telecaster with a woody, almost acoustic tone and broke into, “Paris is Burning,” from her first album. Shorn of everything but guitar and voice, Clark translated melodies that, on the album, were handled by half a dozen instruments and delivered a completely recognizable performance that held the audience in silence with its quiet power.
The first time I saw St. Vincent live, I was most impressed by how well the touring band was able to recreate such dense recordings. This time it was the way that those songs have evolved and transformed after having been played every night. “Your Lips are Red,” in particular has found new teeth as it snarls where it once smoldered. The noise break before the YLAR’s gauzy coda bounced and swirled off the Metro’s ceiling as it enclosed around our ears. The original arrangements of some songs seemed to have persisted through their innate strength. The skronky, “Marrow,” showcases the kind of unhinged guitar playing that quickens the pulse of many a young punk (although possibly only myself). “Just the Same but Brand New,” came out beautiful and slow building; finally crashing upon us like a careening train finally running out of steam (or a belabored metaphor, you pick). My only complaint of not hearing, “Marry Me,” is small when one considers that it may very well have been replaced with a cover of Nico’s, “These Days” that came paired with a most endearing intellectual deconstruction of Ice Cube’s, “It Was a Good Day.” It’s a fair trade.
Final Verdict: Totally worth missing Project Runway.
(*Editors Note: What Danger does on his own time has absolutely nothing to do with Sock Monkey Sound. We think he’s using humor here. We think.)
