St. Vincent @ The Echo 8-04-07

Within 20 minutes of listening to St. Vincent’s (a.k.a. Annie Clark) debut record Marry Me (which I immediately purchased after sampling the 30 second iTunes teasers), I dropped everything and set my fingers a-typin’ to find out if she was currently on tour. Lucky for me, she was. A show was scheduled at L.A.’s The Echo, and through the magic of the web, within two minutes I sealed the deal with reservations placed on my credit card.

Last night I attended said show—and what a sonic feast it proved to be! Death Vessel (a.k.a. Joel Thibodeau – is it just me, or are there a lot of singer/songwriters these days with stage monikers meant to sound like band names?) was a man of few words, but ample songwriting ability. His Americana/folk-laced pop and jarringly high-pitched/clear-as-a-bell voice reminded me a bit of Tom McCrae meets Iron & Wine.

After Joel wrapped up his set, there was the normal break for set-up and sound-check before St. Vincent started their show. Annie—a slip of a girl, probably weighing not much more than 100 pounds—and band opened with the crowd-pleasing “Jesus Saves, I Spend”—and by the first harmonized “bom bom bom bom”s of the song’s intro, I was hooked, reeled in, and walloped on the head like a prize catch. It became apparent a few minutes in that this doe-eyed, angelic-voiced chanteuse can rock out with the best of them, and as the song drew to its dramatic close, Annie purposely let her electric guitar fall, and after the distorted ring made by the instrument’s impact with the stage floor died down, she opened her eyes brightly and her waifish face lit up with a smile. “Thanks,“ she said sweetly—and I was taken aback by the paradoxical contrast between Audrey Hepburn-like sprite and guitar shredding rocker chick.

Next came the Kate Bush-esque “Now, Now”—obviously the album’s single—and her delivery was impeccable. Other memorable songs of the evening include the piano driven “Marry Me” with a fat-bottom beat (an excellent performance despite an uncooperative microphone stand) as well as “Paris is Burning” for which a mannequin arm fashioned into a rhythmic instrument was used. Need more explanation? A button triggering a hand clap sound effect was attached to the mannequin’s palm with its trailing audio output cord secured with duct tape. Yes, it looked as strange as it sounds. Later on in the evening, Annie, whilst in a trance induced by the rock-n-roll gods, proceeded to rip the cable off from this mannequin arm (which creepily resembled the ripping out of an IV) and use it as a prosthetic with which to speedily strum her electric guitar during another dramatic and deafening closer—I believe it was during the song “Your Lips Are Red.” (Sorry folks, I neglected to take notes.)

After their “final” song and the band was coaxed back on stage for an encore, Annie called John Vanderslice (with whom St. Vincent previously toured) up from the crowd, and the two performed a duet. Finally, the show wrapped up with Annie’s gorgeous rendition of the Nico classic “These Days.”

I’m agog whenever I ponder the music St. Vincent will produce in future years, if this be merely the debut. I do realize, though, that she’s no novice to the studio nor stage, having been the guitarist for the Polyphonic Spree and part of the Sufjan Stevens family before venturing off on her own.

St. Vincent tours with The National in a month’s time and if you’re smart, you’ll catch her live whenever, wherever you can—as female singer/songwriter/multi-instrumentalists of Annie’s ilk are few and far between. Her arrangements are complex, her words poetic & cynical, her voice soaring and expressive, her musicianship solid. If I wasn’t girl-crushing on her so much right now, I’d probably hate her guts.