"I'll Be Laughing with Everyone I'll See"- Neutral Milk Hotel Live at Liberty Hall

I was worried going into Neutral Milk Hotel's set at Liberty Hall last night. Not for anything relating to the band mind you. I've seen them twice before, lead-singer Jeff Mangum once, and instinctively knew it would be an all-encompassing emotional event. There would be the sparse howling of "Oh Comely," the galloping "Song Against Sex" and the heavenly death mediation of "In the Aeroplane Over the Sea." Everything would A-Okay in that regard.

I was worried because I was going to the show solo. Even when I'm covering an event, I generally hate going solo because I love talking music with people. I run this blog to share and rhapsodize about music. So being "stuck" at a show is worrisome because all of that enthusiasm is bottled up. That's incredibly true of an NMH show where five different nerves can be struck on the same song. When those nerves are blocked, when you don't have anyone to connect with, it can be crippling.

Those concerns were ultimately unfounded though because it was Neutral Milk Hotel I was seeing. If there are more inclusive fan-bases in music, I’ve yet to find them. NMH is one of those bands where if you look around at the crowd you know you’re on the same sonic wavelength. It takes a particular sort of person to hear earnest poetry in lyrics about Anne Frank and "placing fingers through the notches in your spine." It’s incredibly strange because Mangum’s lyrics are so intentionally cryptic that rallying around them shouldn’t be possible. They’re so tightly coiled, and he so personally reserved with his wild tangles of hair, that getting into the band’s world is an uphill slog on the level of Micky Ward trying to win in The Fighter.

But once you’re in, you’ll "wait for the rest of your life" as the line in "Two-Headed Boy Pt. 2" goes. The crowd at Liberty Hall was in before Magnum even took the stage to hammer away on the chords of Ferris Wheel on Fire cut "I Will Bury You in Time." Everyone around me lost their shit when the similarly bearded Scott Spillane came out to tune up his trombone. In all deference to Spillane, who is so splendidly puckish in the way he sings along to the lyrics when he’s not playing, a crowd that’s enthralled by the mere presence of a trombone player is one that will eat up anything.

And for the span of an hour-and-a-half, the sold-out crowd did just that. They head-banged to "Holland, 1945." They went silent for severely underrated On Avery Island tracks "Baby for Pree" and "Gardenhead." Mass hypnosis happened during the acid-folk/baroque march of "The Fool" where Spillane’s horns cried and Julian Koster’s accordion wearily exhaled. The roof could’ve caved-in at that moment and no one would’ve noticed for what was happening on stage. We all did our best warbly Mangum impersonation when he creakily declared "There is no reason to grieve" in "Two-Headed Boy."

Realistically, the line is one of the best pieces of advice you could offer to anyone worrying about the future of the band. This will be their last tour for a while, and considering they previously went dormant for a decade, things look pretty dim. The notion was reinforced by Mangum who was uncharacteristically warm at times when he would put his hands over his heart in gratitude to the fervent crowd. 

But like my fear of going alone, the band’s absence doesn’t matter. People who weren’t even alive when either of their albums dropped in the mid-90s continue to find them. There will always be a community around this band. Even when they go away their music will be around. It’ll be around to cry over, to laugh with and to giddily rock out to. There’s no reason to grieve.  

St. Vincent Live at Liberty Hall

"I think we have a couple of things in common," Annie Clark (better known as the seismic force behind St. Vincent) chirped to a crowd at Lawrence's Liberty Hall last night. Having ravaged her voice during the prior song "Cruel" to capture the abandonment of "so they took you and they left you," the light banter was a welcome break. But the opening up took a sharp 45 degree turn, as each shared experience Clark listed became more and more specific. By the time her final commonality came up, it was clear Clark was talking about herself. Even in opening up, Clark couldn't help but obfuscate.

Though that lesson should've been clear from the first wobbly beat of opener "Rattlesnake". Rather than step straight to the microphone Clark mechanically danced in place, relishing every sharp herk and jerk. When her voice does eventually sound its sullen and confused; wondering aloud "am I the only one in the only world?" Instead of tackling the question head on, Clark opted to run away on the back of a frenetic, gut busting guitar solo. Clark's decision to let her guitar do the talking became a common occurrence on the night. When she found herself being carried off by "Surgeon"'s electronically treated strings to an indignant silence from a former lover, she abolished that silence with a solo where hammered-on notes recalled a short-circuit. "Birth in Reverse" staved off the aforementioned "Cruel"'s malevolent tone with a guitar strut. Before anyone could overstay their welcome in Clark's "cosmic eternal party line" she was shooing them away with electronic histrionics. 

And if Clark's fretwork failed to keep the wolves at bay, her physical acrobats were more than up to the task. While Clark's guitar prowess deserves to be celebrated, her commanding stage-presence is equally laudable. In the King Crimson meets Timbaland groove of "Digital Witness" she adroitly conveyed the zombie-ism of the Social Media age with her own disaffected "yahs." Each time a dead-eyed utterance spilled out, you could hear a mouse clicking to another profile. St. Vincent standout "I Prefer Your Love"'s warm synth swoons gave Clark a bed to lie down upon. Sprawling out across the on-stage staircase, Clark became a 40s lounge singer, albeit one well-versed in futurism and sorcery.

Such sorcery was in full-effect for "Every Tear Disappears", which had Clark contorting to right angles to deliver the sagely advice "a smile is more than showing teeth." When she openly interrogated "what about the pain?" you felt it yourself. "Prince Johnny"'s need to love yourself before you can love another seemed untenable as Clark collapsed to the floor and began to writhe around like Samara from The Ring. Clark previously commented on the song saying, ""Prince Johnny" is about a mixture of compassion and hopelessness that you feel for a friend who’s being very self-destructive, but you also know that you can’t save them, but you can’t cast any judgment because you’re equally self-destructive," and that desperation was clear with every wriggle. Finally, the schizoid vocals of "Bring Me Your Loves" were an ideal companion to Clark's frantic mind that was hung up on a former bf's belittlement. To exercise those relationship demons, she thrashed about the stage once more though it all felt in vein by the time the stage went dark. Physical aggression can't cure mental anguish.

However, anguish is best captured with little to no frill. Strange Mercy's agonizing title-track delivered a masterclass in stunning minimalism. Perched atop her digital ziggurat, Clark had only her guitar and a solitary spotlight to accompany her. There was no need for flailing guitar chords or twisting movements to highlight the desperation of telling someone "when you see me, wait." The crowd was silent as Clark snuck out to be with the lost boys she was chasing. For all of her obfuscation, Clark arrived at a desire we can all relate to: the desire to transcend your surroundings, to escape.

Setlist: 
1. "Rattlesnake"
2. "Digital Witness"
3. "Cruel"
4. "Birth in Reverse"
5. "Regret"
6. "Laughing with a Mouth of Blood"
7. "I Prefer Your Love"
8. "Pieta"
9. "Every Tear Disappears"
10. "Surgeon"
11. "Cheerleader"
12. "Prince Johnny"
13. "Year of the Tiger"
14. "Marrow"
15. "Huey Newton"
16. "Bring Me Your Loves"
17. "Northern Lights"
18. "Krokodil"

Encore:
19. "Strange Mercy"
20. "Your Lips Are Red"

Concert Revue- Neko Case at Liberty Hall

 

(Photo April Fleming/The Pitch)


Neko Case's latest album The Worse Things Get The Harder I Fight, The Harder I Fight, The More I Love You found the "part-time" New Pornographers member doggedly chasing her muse to all four corners, searching for: love, confidence, and parental guidance. Opening with penultimate The Worse Things Get... track "Where Did I Leave That Fire" was an act of supreme confidence, a bellowing submarine sound issued a false-start to an audience that was ready to run. Follow-up "This Tornado Loves You" with John Rauhouse's consciously strummed banjo allowed Case the chance for her first vocal volleys. Her voice can be a rafter shaking entity and when it broke lose I half expected her band to stop dead in their tracks. 

The band did steady for Fox Confessor Brings the Flood cut "Lion's Jaws", slipping into slow dance territory. Here Case's sighing incantations sound-tracked another turn, as the clock ticked closer to midnight. "Teenage Feeling" stole further into the past, transported by Rauhouse's rollicking banjo and Case's yearning voice. The song was one of the night’s many fighters, refusing to throw in the towel and firmly committed to "holding on to that teenage feeling."

2000's "Set Out Running" possesses a similar longing to shake off the weight of the past and start anew. "I just can't shake this feeling that I'm nothing in your eyes" Case sang from the precipice, pushed to the edge by twanging guitar and mourning pedal steel. Soon only her desolate yawp remained, echoing out of every dark cavern. Muted trombone in "Calling Cards" cast a ghostly pallor, giving the final shot "I’ve got calling cards from twenty years ago" a greater wallop than the studio version could ever pack.

The entire night wasn't a funeral procession however. Case and vocal-collaborator/comedic foil Kelly Hogan kept up an impeccable rapport that deterred some of the deathly musings suggesting "a banjo is a guitar that wants to show you a dead body." "City Swans" ascent was steady, taking off with Case's fluttering vocals and a trotting guitar part. By the time chorus came, Case disappeared into a blustery cloud and her unease "I can't look at you straight on" seemed self-confident.  Whether between banter or in the midst of the maelstrom, Case has an incredible ability to mask any doubt.

If one song projected an unshakable certainty, it was "Man". An assault of self-assurance and gender reversals, The Worse Things Get... highlight shone on stage offering the authoritative version. Case's dirtkicking choked out the audience and the band hightailed it to the nearest exit.

Coming back out to rapturous applause, the band provided the ultimate study in contrast to "Man" with "Nearly Midnight Honolulu". Clapping died when the acapella number began as a hush fell over Liberty Hall. During a showstopper of any set, there's occasional seat fidgeting or hushed murmuring. Not in this instance. It was quiet enough to hear the audience’s collective heartbeat, if a pulse remained at all. I can't recall breathing once, each inhalation was stolen by Case to capture the abusive parent tale. Case and company continued for four more songs, but "Nearly Midnight Honolulu" became the night’s unquestionable apotheosis.

Reviewing The Worse Things Get... I wrote "confidence can't come overnight." That said, the night’s starkest moments still contained an overwhelming courage to display such unadorned emotion. If last night's set at Liberty Hall proved anything it's that Case has never let the reins of her driving confidence go.


Setlist:
1. "Where Did I Leave That Fire?"
2. "This Tornado Loves You"
3. "Bracing for Sunday"
4. "Lion's Jaws"
5. "People Got A Lotta Nerve"
6. "That Teenage Feeling"
7. "Set Out Running"
8. "The Pharaohs"
9. "City Swans"
10. "Maybe Sparrow"
11. "Red Tide"
12. "Wild Creatures"
13. "Calling Cards"
14. "Deep Red Bells"
15. "Hold On, Hold On"
16. "Night Still Comes"
17. "Man"

18. "Nearly Midnight Honolulu"
19. "Local Girl"
20. "Ragtime"

21. " I Wish I Was The Moon"
22. "Margaret vs. Pauline"


In the body above I mentioned Case and Kelly Hogan's "impeccable rapport", past being an austere musical performance the show was packed with quotacular moments, a few of which I've provided below:

"A banjo is a guitar that wants to show you a dead body."

"That guitar is a dick."- Said by Case after dropping her weathered acoustic guitar.

"This is more like 5th base. 5th base is when you let me drive your truck and you're not in it...6th base is you go to the store and pick up tampons for me."- Case assuming the role of baseball commentator after someone yelled out "2nd base" when she suggested the next song would be taking the audience out to "dinner and a movie."

"All the bosoms laid out before me, were I a poor man t'would have been a feast."- Case picking up an English brogue to lampoon Motley Crue's Tommy Lee.