I was stumped on the opening for this St. Vincent show
review so I asked Frank for a little De Blase help. This
is what he gave me:
It was a night of ugly guitar and ethereal beauty…
Like a cross between a wind up doll and Ziggy
Stardust…
Holy sh*t…
Frank reviewed St. Vincent’s Jazz Fest performance with
David Byrne back in 2013 and he jumped at the chance to shoot Annie Clark again,
so the two of us met up at Water Street Music Hall to check out Thursday’s sold-out
show.
I’m not sure if the crowd knew what to expect from the
opener, Jenny Hval. The Norwegian singer-composer was
joined on stage by a producer and a projectionist (I think her only job was to
operate the projector) for a set that seemed more art installation than
concert. Over minimalist beats — or on a couple of tracks experimental
soundscapes, deep bass, and blips — Hval worked
through a stunning vocal range, varying her style from spoken-word soft
whispers, or a poppier flow, to screams and sustained
pitches.
There were no lights on the stage except for the use of a
projector and screen displaying videos of a woman rubbing toilet paper on her
face or blowing up a bag with air using a hand pump. On the last couple of
songs the projectionist used a camera to throw up video of Hval
singing and a video of the projectionist herself toying with a banana before
finally eating it — getting a classic Frank De Blase
line, “Sometimes a banana is only a banana.”
The set was interesting, beautiful, and weird — but I’m not
sure if it fully clicked with the crowd, given the talking and shuffling
throughout the set. On the surface, it may not seem like the kind of
performance you would normally see in a large rock venue, but it made sense for
a St. Vincent set opener.
By the time St. Vincent took the stage at 9 p.m., the Water
Street crowd was shoulder-to-shoulder and itching.
Annie Clark, the musician at the soul of St. Vincent, blows
my mind. Not only is she a creative, innovative songwriter and part performance
artist, but she can shred. You get the sense that she could rip out a jaw-dropping
rock, blues, or metal solo in her sleep, but patiently bottles all of that
energy into writing effects-heavy, thought-provoking material. (Although, there
was plenty of unhinged guitar work Thursday night.)
“Rattlesnake” — the set’s first song — started with Clark
dancing robotically to an extended bass-heavy intro and ended with a bat out of
hell solo, and a massive smile on her face. Her three-person backing band
brought the chest-rattling bass, tight drums, and synth work.
St. Vincent’s 2014 self-titled album builds on the idea of
living in a digital world and how to disconnect from it. The band’s live show
subtly built on that — more robotic dancing, an on-point light show that may
have killed my retinas, and two monologues about universal connection — as it
worked through material pulled from all four St. Vincent albums.
Of course St. Vincent was gonna lean
heavy on its 2014 album and a happy dose of 2011’s “Strange Mercy,” but it was
cool to hear “Actor out of Work” (off 2009’s “Actor) and “Your Lips Are Red”
(off 2007’s “Marry Me”) get an update to
St. Vincent’s current tone. “Lips” was downright gritty and ominous when St.
Vincent closed the night with it — and Clark worked the guitar while riding a
security guard’s shoulders along the fence.
This wasn’t just a band getting on stage to perform songs,
this had a level of intensity and passion that I haven’t seen in a while. There
was thought and precision put into the full performance — from the engaging, charismatic
music to a choreographed robot dance between Clark and her accompanying
guitarist — and it was satisfying.
It’s March. It’s only f***ing
March and I think I may have just seen my favorite show of 2015.
This article appears in Mar 4-10, 2015.
Wrong venue for a talented band. I’m sure they enjoy the “dirty rock club” vibe, but their performance demands a venue where everyone can see and hear without distraction; in Rochester, I’d say that limits them to a seated venue, but the Auditorium Theater is too large, Kilbourn and Little 1 are too small, and Geva doesn’t do rock music (though it’d be amazing if they tried it).
It’s a shame Rochester doesn’t have a tiered-venue like Buffalo’s Town Ballroom or a converted theatre, with a gently sloped floor, like Syracuse’s Westcott Theatre.
It’s also a shame that concert-goers in our great city tend to prioritize alcohol and socialization over respecting the performers and their fellow audience members. No opening act, nor featured act for that matter, regardless of how unfamiliar or unusual their music is, should have to perform in front of an audience that is more interested in getting sloshed and being seen than listening to and watching a truly great artist.
Thanks for the thoughts, Stephen. Where were you standing in Water Street? Did you have problems seeing the stage?
While this time around I had a good view point, I have been stuck in the back of Water Street, where I couldn’t see very well.
Jake, we were in the rear, roughly 3 feet from the back of the balcony. Couldn’t see a thing back there (I’m 5’9″, so… very average). I’ve been to Water Street dozens of times before and the view from anywhere beyond the front balcony support beams is generally awful. Obviously the bad view is worsened when the room is sold out.
Not seeing wouldn’t be quite as bad if it wasn’t coupled with only being able to hear the people around us barking conversation at each other. I was wearing ear plugs and they were still cutting through the mix.
I’m definitely beginning to feel like an old misanthropic curmudgeon even though I’m only 35.
I know exactly what you mean, Stephen. And thanks for the different perspective. I may have been too far forward to hear the chatter, but I know that’s always annoying.
You raise a good point about venues in Rochester, too. Along with those seated theaters you mentioned, there is also the Armory, but I’m not sure if that would have been a better fit, either.
The unfortunate truth is that Water Street is the correct size venue for St. Vincent.
General Admission – Too big for St. Vincent: The Armory, BCA, Harro East
General Admission – Too small for St. Vincent: Bug Jar, Montage, Flour City Station
Seated – Too big for St. Vincent: Auditorium Theatre, Kodak Hall
Seated – Too small for St. Vincent: Kilbourn, Little 1, Hatch
I’m not up to speed on why Water Street doesn’t always open the balcony (safety? security?), but it seems like they’re missing out on an opportunity to make some extra cash by charging a higher price to be up there. They could probably build a few rows of tiered seating up there for not too much money. I’d gladly pay an extra $10-15 to sit up there and enjoy a performance without having to stand with the herd down below.
Rochester could also benefit from an alcohol-free venue, but that’s my pie-in-the-sky idea. I’m fairly certain it wouldn’t fly because I just don’t think most adults would want to go somewhere where they couldn’t get a drink, again, because they prioritize the alcohol/socialization over the music/performance.