My weekend was quite busy. I finished building our family chicken coop (for chickens, not families) on Saturday and then went to see Grouper. On Sunday the family drove down to Seattle to take in the sun and the lake with some friends before I went out to see Gifts From Enola tear shit up at the Sunset Tavern.
The Grouper show is, in my opinion, a model show for the future. Artists like Sufjan Stevens and Joanna Newsome have played in St. Andrews-Wesley Church before, but this was the first show I've attended there. The space features a mock 14th-century-style Gothic tower, a high vaulted nave, deep transepts and nice stained glass. Watching the sunset through those panes of Christ was actually really nice, for being inside. It was dark in there. But that's the way the artists wanted it.
Openers Diadem, a male /female tandem, produced a very eclectic ambient piece for about 25 minutes. The only light coming from a shaded lamp behind them. Vocals thrown through a chaos pad, electronic circuitry and effects made to sound like bells and chimes, and a constantly shifting ambient terrasphere made their music one of CHANGE. Constantly morphing, the music never went anywhere, but was interesting nonetheless.
Not long after (and thankfully putting an end to the tasteful but way-too-loud house music) Empty Love, another man-woman combo, began climbing their little pyramid. They turned the lights low and were illuminated by a series of colored circles, scanning across the stage right to left. Nice mood. The lady began some repetitive guitar pluckery that seemed to drag after a while as the fellow teased with subtle ambient touches. Julia laid down in the pew, hed on my lap, and yeah I was starting to get the same impression. Time to pass out. I leaned forward, head on pewback (word?) and started to realize that I had drank Kratom tea before the show, which ever-so-slightly changes your angle on perception. Before I knew it, the drone had exploded into an ocean-sized swell of staircased digital fuzz, undulating and breathing with life! Well done, people. And just like that, it was over.
Liz Harris meandered on and off stage in her capris jeans for a while. She sat in her chair in front of her pedals and slung on her guitar, took it off; She did this several times. The beginning of her set was constantly in question. When she did start, I wasn't sure if I should believe, but there is no mistaking someone sing clearly into a crushing electronic fog, looping her voice three times into a complex harmony, all the while keeping time with some simple lower register guitar work. This was one of the highlights of the whole performance, but I should note that the performance as a whole is how to take in Grouper.
Liz Harris apparently doesn't like to play live shows, at least not a lot of them. Playing outside of Portland is a rare occurrence, so Julia and I snatched up tickets immediately upon hearing about the show, even though we were close to broke. Now we aren't broke, and seeing the show was a special, a residual treat from the days when we were making a lot of very little. (It's not like we're bling-blingin' now, but go with me here) Grouper is similar in her approach to performance. Bare-bones in set-up, with a flickering black-&-white projection shown all over the stage, she builds and builds colossal sound-scapes, peppered with tons of reverb that piles on top of itself so much that new, un-intended rhythms and effects surface, making for a very dense kind of music. You can pick and choose what area of this sonic soup to listen to. Or if you were like us, you trance out in your church pew, eyes closed, completely aware of the music.
We never fell asleep. We were conscious the entire time, but we were definitely between dreams and being awake. It was extremely surreal, to come back to the space and realize how incredible the sound was, little Liz up on stage with her black hair in her face, somberly unpeeling her lips toward oblivion. Something about her performance was totally holy. She said thank you once, but she never seemed to want anything from us. She just wanted to give and then be done, go rest.
Grouper is not typical drone music, and yet we can't help but call it that. It is engaging to witness played live, far surpassing most of the platitudes offered by other drone artists. It's because Harris is using what all popular acts get famous on: Melody. Beneath the tumultuous seas of her fuzz and reverb, there are songs. And good ones. It's the melodies that drift up like souls escaping to heaven, lasting as the pieces you remember long after it's over. Grouper in a church makes so much sense! I want to see more shows like this. Sigur Ros always has said they'd prefer to play in spaces like that, for it is more befitting of their music. As I grow tired of these rock and roll crowds (see the ISIS review below) I am looking for different kinds of performances, an intimacy that seems lacking in shows these days. This show satisfied that desire on multiple levels. Plus we left our baby at home. It was the perfect date.
