November 11th, 2006
by Brittney Scott
The Decemberists, an indie rock band of prevalent appeal whose roots can be traced to Portland, Oregon, performed one of their final North American shows of the year in Columbus last night. Featuring contemporary materials such as that of The Crane Wife, their most recent album release (circulated on October 3rd, 2006), the band candidly tested the audience in presenting the unknown. They were not, however, so audacious as to exclude the classic ballads that procured their success in the beginning. In the offering of partially investigational musical medley, consistently comprised of pieces new and old, The Decemberists were received with extraordinary enthusiasm much akin to that which the band members themselves bestowed.
The concert was initiated by a resounding voice that suggested we be so kind as to introduce ourselves to our neighbors. We complied in a just so kindly manner, and subsequent to this communal commencement, the band came immediately onstage. As a six-person ensemble involving the talents of Colin Meloy (guitarist, vocalist), Chris Funk (guitarist, multi-instrumentalist), Jenny Conlee (organist, accordionist), Nate Query (bassist), John Moen (percussionist) and Lisa Molinaro (supporting musician; violinist, keyboardist), The Decemberists opened with an inventive excerpt of The Crane Wife.
Long-time devotees listened intently, as though straining to source and identify their beloved indie band beneath the façade of a new noise belonging to a new label, the major recording label of Capital Records to be precise. Fans did not, as often happens in minor-to-major musical transitioning, appear dissatisfied in any discernible way, but rather, seemed intrigued by it. Baroque-like inflections bent to embrace otherwise modern tenors, weaving a sort of historical texture into the scenery and setting. And in the midst of a potentially disastrous assortment of instruments, a mixture of melodies, oddly appealing, was created.
Albeit different from their earlier works, The Crane Wife was not altogether unexpected of The Decemberists, and by no recognizable means a byproduct of their new record producers. Inspired by a Japanese folk tale, the album is said by fans to be minimally pretentious, unlike materials presented by The Decemberists in the past. Even so, The Crane Wife is only their major label debut, and there is time in abundance for changes yet to come.
Indeed, Meloy is socially graceful and highly entertaining; throughout the show, he mingled and interacted with the audience. At one point, a crowd surfing fan was tossed onstage, and Colin casually lent his microphone to him. Later, a girl would make her way up, dancing joyously before us. Several other instances (such as the event in which Colin “borrowed” the cell phone of a member in the crowd, dialed a friend, and sang into it) indicated that the band was still real in every sense, still earth-bound in their ether-reaching aptitude. The crowd parted for members of the band to enter the audience, and in doing so, they reenacted one of the great American battles.
In addition to fresh cuts from their new album (“The Crane Wife, Pt. 3,” “The Perfect Crime No. 2,” “Yankee Bayonet,” “Shankill Butchers,” and “O Valencia!”) the band offered us the sounds of antique history, derivatives of Picaresque, Her Majesty, and Castaways And Cutouts. Tracks like “Sixteen Military Wives,” “We Both Go Down Together,” “The Engine Driver,” “Red Right Ankle,” and “July, July!” set the stage musically aflame and fulfilled expectations of fans simultaneously. But it was the recital of “Sons & Daughters,” the last song on their new album, which united us all in a humble harmony.
Successful in forming a listening alliance, merged together by musical accord, Meloy invited us to sing along. “Hear all the bombs fade away,” over and over and over. It was simple enough to remember, he claimed, and easier yet to recite; the message would amplify in intensity and accumulate power with every moving mouth, every singing voice, every contributing component of the cause. Pulsating with positive energy, and at full volume, we sang for what seemed to be an eternity.
The concert was initiated by a resounding voice that suggested we be so kind as to introduce ourselves to our neighbors. We complied in a just so kindly manner, and subsequent to this communal commencement, the band came immediately onstage. As a six-person ensemble involving the talents of Colin Meloy (guitarist, vocalist), Chris Funk (guitarist, multi-instrumentalist), Jenny Conlee (organist, accordionist), Nate Query (bassist), John Moen (percussionist) and Lisa Molinaro (supporting musician; violinist, keyboardist), The Decemberists opened with an inventive excerpt of The Crane Wife.
Long-time devotees listened intently, as though straining to source and identify their beloved indie band beneath the façade of a new noise belonging to a new label, the major recording label of Capital Records to be precise. Fans did not, as often happens in minor-to-major musical transitioning, appear dissatisfied in any discernible way, but rather, seemed intrigued by it. Baroque-like inflections bent to embrace otherwise modern tenors, weaving a sort of historical texture into the scenery and setting. And in the midst of a potentially disastrous assortment of instruments, a mixture of melodies, oddly appealing, was created.
Albeit different from their earlier works, The Crane Wife was not altogether unexpected of The Decemberists, and by no recognizable means a byproduct of their new record producers. Inspired by a Japanese folk tale, the album is said by fans to be minimally pretentious, unlike materials presented by The Decemberists in the past. Even so, The Crane Wife is only their major label debut, and there is time in abundance for changes yet to come.
Indeed, Meloy is socially graceful and highly entertaining; throughout the show, he mingled and interacted with the audience. At one point, a crowd surfing fan was tossed onstage, and Colin casually lent his microphone to him. Later, a girl would make her way up, dancing joyously before us. Several other instances (such as the event in which Colin “borrowed” the cell phone of a member in the crowd, dialed a friend, and sang into it) indicated that the band was still real in every sense, still earth-bound in their ether-reaching aptitude. The crowd parted for members of the band to enter the audience, and in doing so, they reenacted one of the great American battles.
In addition to fresh cuts from their new album (“The Crane Wife, Pt. 3,” “The Perfect Crime No. 2,” “Yankee Bayonet,” “Shankill Butchers,” and “O Valencia!”) the band offered us the sounds of antique history, derivatives of Picaresque, Her Majesty, and Castaways And Cutouts. Tracks like “Sixteen Military Wives,” “We Both Go Down Together,” “The Engine Driver,” “Red Right Ankle,” and “July, July!” set the stage musically aflame and fulfilled expectations of fans simultaneously. But it was the recital of “Sons & Daughters,” the last song on their new album, which united us all in a humble harmony.
Successful in forming a listening alliance, merged together by musical accord, Meloy invited us to sing along. “Hear all the bombs fade away,” over and over and over. It was simple enough to remember, he claimed, and easier yet to recite; the message would amplify in intensity and accumulate power with every moving mouth, every singing voice, every contributing component of the cause. Pulsating with positive energy, and at full volume, we sang for what seemed to be an eternity.
In conclusion, all things considered, the band does not appear lustrous by limelight or corrupt by mainstream influence. While spectators may regard Meloy’s liveliness and vigor as a newly developed rock ‘n’ roll false front, disciples of the band and previous show attendees will tell you otherwise. Rest assured, foremost fans, for The Decemberists have not forgotten where they came from.
1 comment:
This is a wonderful concert review. Your writing is very good. When will we see more?
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