First of all, it was a beautiful setup at Le Poisson Rouge, as Wordless Music Series shows usually are, and Hammock, who I found even more minimal, opened with a perfectly complementary set–their music, in fact, was only an accompaniment to the video collage that served as a central piece on the stage, and which set the mood for their set: that is, I felt like the video molded the perception of the music, instead of it being the other way round. In between these two bands, classical pianist Jocelyn Bonadio played a few quiet songs by Bach, Shostakovich, and John Cage, and the experience of seeing these three acts together summed up for me what this sort of musical language does: in uttering the alphabets of music and holding on to each letter while you soak it in, unobstructed by verbal language or the more complicated structure of sentences and rhymes, it basically massages your musical sensibilities; it makes you better prepared to respond to things emotionally; it helps you open up and act like a reservoir for the musical language itself to fill you up. The music of Stars of the Lid definitely had more structure, and they played with a fantastic string quartet, but it’s no wonder that when they said, “This is our hit song”, a wave of laughter filled the room; because that statement makes no sense, given the nature of their music.

Hammock:

Jocelyn Bonadio:

Websites: Hammock, Stars of the Lid

Le Poisson Rouge, New York, NY
Nov 21, 2008

All pictures, and story continued, after the jump.

Very quickly into the set, Olof also performed a lovely Bruce Springsteen cover , though she seemed to have forgotten his name. Looking to her trusty pal Shahzad Ismaily for help, she said, “What is his name again? Ah! Bruce Springsteen”. Later on she would say, “Don’t worry, we’re not going to go ambient on you” when a little tuning lapse occurred; later still, she blurted out some truly instructional things like, “Shahzad, can you give me the beat” in the middle of a song.

So of course Le Poisson Rouge was an awesome venue for this set. Nico Muhly played a Yamaha grand piano, which sounded pretty much divine. Olof’s voice and “guitars” (of varying shapes and sizes) remained central, though the spotlight was shared with Sam Amidon’s violin every now and then. But there were also several elements of barely audible details both on the piano and Shahzad Ismaily’s variety of percussive outlets that seemed really thoughtful, and which the venue translated wonderfully despite their small volume.

The seating arrangement was different from the last two times I’ve been there. About eight or six chairs each were arranged on two sides of several rectangular tables in a way that almost felt like diner tables all butted against each other. This covered the entire floor, which worked well for this show. I thought, however, that Olof’s voice sounded slightly different from what you hear in recordings. It was even more folkish in the sense that it was almost matronly. You could really imagine it coming from a woman washing clothes in the hills, though it’s not true that her voice, like Joanna Newsom’s, is the kind people either hate or love. There are people like me who don’t necessarily love hers or Joanna’s, yet don’t mind it, though we clearly enjoy it since our attention is grabbed more by the songs instead.

I couldn’t stay for Skuli Sverrisson, but here are all the photos:

Nico Muhly on the piano.

Sam Amidon on violin.

Shahzad Ismaily switched between this and drums.

“Tuning this is a bitch” — she said of her charanga, borrowed from Skuli Sverrisson. And also, “It’s made from armadillo”.

All pictures after the jump, video coming later.

I was immediately drawn to this spectacled strummer; I believe he’s Ross Condon? Chris Hladowski (thanks j-m). Hladowski kicked butt.

Jason Poranski and Paul Collins from Beirut:

This woman danced wildly from the start, full Roma style, and there was a dancing group at the back that was no less than the groom’s friends at a Romanian wedding.