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Old 12-30-2014, 03:11 PM   #1
elephant7727
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Default A Lengthy Concert Review (Nov. 14 Athenaeum, rescheduled show)

Hello, I'm brand new to these forums. I joined because I recently wrote a review of a Damien concert I attended on November 14th in Chicago. I wrote it for fun and for myself, but I figured maybe I'd share it with anyone who may be interested. It's okay if no one reads it, especially considering it's twice as long as a review should be, but I wrote basically all of the core things I admire about the man and his work. As a fellow musician and lyricist, I've spent a lot of time analyzing what he does. So, if you don't mind a sit-down of a read, I hope you enjoy my extended tribute to him! Haha. Thank you, and I'm happy to be a part of your wonderful community.







It was October 13th that the bustling crowd of one thousand or so packed into the seats of the intimate Athenaeum Theater in northern Chicago. With typical concert performances, one can sense a sort of spectrum within the audience. Starting from inside the core, it’s often easy to spot the diehard followers of an act who sport signed T-shirts with a list of tour dates checked off on the back. Radiating outward, we cross through a variety of music lovers, or curious new fans, until we reach the outermost edge; those who simply enjoy a night out and a show. But that night in the Athenaeum, something was different. You could look around the theater and it was palpable. This was a group of people who knew all of the songs and lyrics front to back. This was a group of people who each held their own touching story about how one of these ballads had brought them through a rough, introspective part of their lives. This was a group of people who excitedly looked on towards the stage with electric anticipation and awaited the boldest, most sensitive artist that they could hope for to come deliver an experience that would move them in the deepest and sincerest way possible. This was a group of people who loved Damien Rice.

Unfortunately, after about only five songs, Damien regretfully had to cancel the show due to an intense ear infection. It wouldn’t be until later that he would comment further, explaining that it was a case in which he was working himself too hard and that his body just wasn’t willing to take anymore. Although the dismay was felt throughout the entire crowd during the on-the-spot cancellation, the auditorium being washed over by a sea of hushed chatter, everyone understood that there wasn’t much that could be done. Internet comment boards lit up afterward with a mixture of disappointment and well-wishing. However, all acknowledged that it was no one’s fault and gracefully accepted the circumstances. This was a very absolute and unified courtesy shown to Rice that just isn’t always expected from a large mass of people. Many had traveled quite a distance to attend this performance. Of that number, it seemed many would be able to make it back, but not all would be able to afford the luxury of another long, expensive trip. I was part of the former, but my heart and sympathies go out to the latter.

Upon his rescheduled return to the Athenaeum on November 14th, the golden spotlight shone down center-stage, illuminating what seemed like a quiet storm of dust dancing high in the candescent glint that awaited the modestly dressed Rice. As Damien strode quickly from the dark to his majestic light, the crowd roared with enthusiastic applause that could match the thundering of any arena show. Being a man whom we know can say so much even with so little, he greeted the audience only with, “Thank you for coming back.” This was of course returned with uproarious gratification. The stage was set, and the patience of these adoring fans had finally paid off.

He opened the set with the lesser known and arguably more lighthearted “The Professor.” This is a man who deeply understands structure and progression, because it seems that he arranges his set list something like he arranges the songs themselves. You meet with a handshake, have dinner and drinks, fall for each other, make furious love, and then tragically go your separate ways. At one point, he even asked the crowd to please refrain from getting up to go to the bathroom until the end of a song, rather than walk across the row during the middle. Although to some this may seem finicky, in a world full of instant downloads, internet singles, and far fewer full-length albums circulating the mainstream, the music populace has become a bit jaded. We’ve sort of forgotten what it’s like to devote our full attention to a comprehensive work from beginning to end. But Damien is a master craftsman. He understands just how sacred a performance is, and how we rob ourselves if we don’t carefully indulge in its gentle meeting; its rises and falls; its grand climax; its bittersweet resolution. He wants us to be moved. He’s there as an actor just as much as he is a songwriter, drawing us in and taking us line by line to the very end of the play. And if we allow ourselves to concentrate on each facet of the music without interruption or distraction, we will be moved, song, after song, after song.

And Damien granted us those wonderful songs that night. He offered as many of the crowd favorites as time allowed, going a generous deal over schedule. He covered well known hits such as “Delicate,” “Volcano,” “9 Crimes,” “Elephant,” as well as newer titles like “My Favourite Faded Fantasy” and “I Don’t Want To Change You,” which already feel like classics in his repertoire. As a pleasant surprise, he also even played a few of the more offbeat, less popular numbers, some of which happen to be personal favorites, like, “Coconut Skins” and “Woman Like A Man.” But no matter what he was playing, the entire crowd remained silent with a warrior’s discipline from beginning to end, drinking in the performance as it was meant to be. The only wear on the seats that night must have been done to the edges. And every song was met like clockwork with the most full-hearted applause that this appreciative audience could muster. It seemed as though every song was their absolute favorite; the one they had waited for. And it’s one thing to hear these songs on the recordings, but to experience each tender note or abandoned yell in person leaves a stunning impression on the mind.

In the writing of each of these works, Damien takes a powerful emotion or idea and authenticates it with mature motivations, allowing us to connect and empathize with the piece without needing to suspend even a modicum of disbelief. This is in part why his music is so stirring. It’s part of the provocative nature of art. We must believe it to feel it. And it must be credible for us to believe it. It has baffled me for years as to how he so consistently conceives a near-melodramatic premise, but then raises the inherent motivations of that premise with efficient, humble lyrics. He then couples that with a superb and ruthlessly economic melody, and, in effect, totally validates the drama. With all of the moving parts working in this way, we can relax, cast aside any attempts at criticism, and be taken over by his music like no other artist.

But it’s in this relaxation that he proves all the more brilliant. He takes advantage of the trust we place in the reality, and then onslaughts us with that reality. He leads us from gentle greetings, to tumultuous builds, to explosive endings. Who else can make a bridge shine so wonderfully? Or justify borderline screaming in a raw breakdown? Who else can make it so tastefully beautiful? It reminds me of a time I showed my parents a video of Damien giving it his all in a near ten-minute, live rendition of “I Remember.” Their taste differs, and they seemed a little perturbed in their responses, but they may have inadvertently put it best: “That wasn’t music… that was more like… art.”

To create fine art is one challenge, but what about performing it? Is Damien up to the task? Let alone as a one-man band? As the night unfolded, close listeners would have noticed his amazing versatility. He used a somewhat worn-down acoustic electric with a variety of pedals, but it was in the ways he used them. Be it the feather touch applied with only a single thumb for softer sections, or his switch to the pick for the aggressive strumming required in the stretches that built the song’s tension. His ethereal chord phrasings held drone notes that rang out above the bass-line changes, giving each song such an intricate, layered quality and fully characterizing his sound. Beyond these nuances, he dazzled the audience with a rich palette of effects. Some light gain to give a song some extra oomph as it transitioned ever closer towards more intense movements. Even outright heavy metal-worthy distortion when things got especially hectic. Also impressive was the visceral assault made with his wah pedal during the occasional lead guitar break, reminiscent of the passion Hendrix displays at the peak of a dark, bluesy jam. And when reaching its rawest point, a climax would lose itself in a mess of noise and feedback that could shake you by the skull.

His vocal seems to have actually improved with age. He has the voice of an angel, but in a much more literal sense. Not like that of the fluffy, hallmark depictions of cartoon cherubs singing softly in a choir, but rather that of a warlike archangel described in scripture, his every word booming and shaking the halls of the entire complex. Much like his aptitude with strings, he was equally varied in his handling of his vocal cords. Practically speaking to the crowd over the lowermost volumes of a progression, his emerald accent was detectable on occasion. At full power, his timbre was dynamic and demanding. In higher registers, his notes shone with the pristine resonance of a perfect tenor. He could easily mix things up with the fragility of a light falsetto, the exhausted grit of a seductive groan, or by simply letting his voice fall into throaty yells as an attack reached its most violent.

Damien has it down to a very measured science in his execution of instrumentation and vocalization, but within the framework of that science, he follows the mantra “play what you feel.” And does he feel. There was no lack of improvisation over the course of that night. It wasn’t uncommon for him to take one of his songs and careen off into an unfathomed direction, reinventing it and giving it an edge never before imagined by loyal fans. His set was littered with extended jams and experimentation, including an orchestra’s worth of coordination as he invited three sections of the crowd to sing three different vocal lines over “Volcano.” He added his fourth and then subsequently increased the tempo, gradually pushing the song off the rails and into a purely primal intensity. For another performance, he began staggering drunkenly backwards and bent over to sing a verse not into his vocal mic, but directly into his guitar’s sound hole, giving it a muffled and small tone. He finished the last remaining lines crouched in the back corner of the stage; a picturesque motif of helplessness that tied in perfectly to his often delicate and vulnerable lyrical themes. Another favorite new effect was his using a pedal to add a cacophonous barrage of drums to highly climactic portions of “I Remember,” “My Favourite Faded Fantasy,” and the like. He proved beyond all doubt that it’s not a band that makes a performance. It’s a performer.

Once Damien played his final ballads and walked offstage, the crowd stood and called for the encores as if unwilling to accept an ending. Upon his return, a multitude of requests were hollered out until Damien finally chuckled and responded with his quiet, delightful wit, “You’re all saying different songs…” He kindly played almost as many requests as were shouted out, trying to cover everyone’s favorite that they had yet to hear.

But it was the finale that transformed the night from an incredible performance into a spiritual, life changing experience. Loosely setting the mood with the thoughtful chords from one of his new songs, “Trusty And True,” he explained to the audience that this was a sort of campfire song. He invited everyone to envision an actual fire and take anything bad that has ever happened to them and cast it into this fire. “Maybe… your brother slept with your girlfriend…” His eyes wandered as he comically couldn’t come up with any other examples. After amused laughter from the crowd, he continued to urge his instructions to us, “Whatever bad things have happened, release them to this fire, whatever it is that you hate…” He then mused over his song’s meaning, “It’s actually also kind of a song about conflict between the English and the Irish in a person. So… maybe you hate a race of people.” A complete crack up from the crowd at that remark, “Whatever it is, take it, and sing the end of this song with me, and throw your hatred into that fire.”

Once he neared the end, he quickly taught the crowd the line, “Come let yourself be wrong, come it’s already begun.” Already floating on air to the sounds of the soft-spoken melody, the assembly sang along celestially. But this choral chanting was not like that of a regular show where a crowd merely imitates their favorite song at the artist’s behest. This was a therapeutic release. You could feel in the vibrations how profoundly connected the crowd was to the performer and the music. They were all truly relinquishing their troubles to this metaphorical bonfire. As one. An entire group of a thousand, wholly united by music. It was less singing a note, and more singing life itself.

After repeating the line countless times, Damien gently set down his guitar and stepped to the edge of the stage, singing directly to the people, no mic. No one was sure when this would end, but no one wanted it to. Everyone simply sang. Again and again and again. After Damien stepped backwards inch by inch, he finally took his bow. The audience finished the line, and the applause was ceaseless. Although that moment where we sang with Damien had to end, its memory is forever framed in our minds and in our hearts. It was surely the closest thing to real magic.

So what is Damien Rice? Is he a folk singer? Tenderly churning out bittersweet chords, using a farmer’s aesthetic and regaling us with humble life lessons? Is he a rock performer? Cranking out gain and feedback as he strums like a madman and eviscerates his poor guitar to make us hold our breath in shock? Is he an operatic powerhouse? Standing alone on a dimly lit stage and bellowing beautiful melodies in perfect pitch until his rich sustain sends us into weeping? Damien can perhaps better be described as a wandering minstrel, one of myth and legend. Traveling from theater hall to theater hall, he moves audiences of adoring fans. But he would have traveled from court to court, moving kings and queens. And he would have traveled from earth to Olympus, moving Greek gods and the mountains they stood upon.
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Old 12-30-2014, 04:09 PM   #2
carrroline
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Welcome!
Thanks for your epic review! I didn't have the time to read it all now, but will read it all later for sure.
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Old 12-31-2014, 10:15 AM   #3
elephant7727
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Thank you kindly, Carrroline!
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Old 12-31-2014, 06:11 PM   #4
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http://www.thebarnpresents.com/strea...414-23119.html
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