Leslie Feist managed to make an enormous splash on Let It Die, her first album out from under the umbrella of Canada’s musical superhero coalition Broken Social Scene, in part out of shock at her incredible talent and songwriting. One album and 3 years later, the element of surprise long washed away, she’s proven that her abilities (and there are many) are only improving.
The crowd at the Wiltern is a sea of what appear to be the most interesting girls I’ll never meet. An usher shows me to my seat, and I smile stupidly as it’s my first time attending a seated concert. It’s also my first time attending a seated concert alone, and the novelty of seat N408 quickly wears out when it’s the only seat taken in N400-410. I excuse myself to the emptiness and make a swift trip to the bar. You can’t look lonely with a strong drink in your hand, and I stare deeply into the stage curtains looking pensive. The Wiltern features a screen which scrolls through text messages which are sent to a special Wiltern number. This also quickly loses its novelty after seeing “Who’s the opener,” “YOU ROCKKK,” and “I love that video” over and over again.
To answer their first question (though it lacks the punctuation to truly be a question), Grizzly Bear took the stage as the first and only opening act. Recovering from a vehicular meltdown just outside of San Francisco, the boys certainly showed no signs of personal breakdown. Grizzly Bear’s music, which I must shamefully admit I was not familiar with previous to the show, is a lot like what I imagined the Led Zeppelin song “Misty Mountain Hop” to be about. There’s a lot of building and climbing and then, upon reaching the summit, the atmosphere changes into a sort of whimsical elating mystery. In the interest of full reporting, this is probably when my drink kicked in. The members of Grizzly Bear shuffled about a bit on instruments, with the only exception being Daniel Rossen’s stern devotion to guitar and microphone. It wasn’t unexpected though, since Ed Droste (Vocals/Keyboard/Other) announced that Dan’s mother was in attendance at the show. And we all know the only thing that makes you clam up more than having your mom at the show is having someone announce that your mom’s at the show. Dan, if you ever read this, your mother should be very proud. Grizzly Bear kicks much ass.
One of the biggest points of contention most critics have with Feist is that her increased audience (and thus increased market) have led to a commercialization of her sound and her image. And judging from the first few seconds of her show I’d have to agree. In true diva style, the backing band went out a minute before she did so that she could enter on a fanfare of background music. Few things in music bug me more than this style of frontperson. But I remember reading how on the new album, even on the singles, you can hear her straining against the commercialization of her oh-so-easygoing approach. And judging from the next few seconds of her show I’d have to agree. In true class act style, she and her backing band spent the majority of the first song staring at each other, sharing that beautiful bond that only comes from absolutely tearing a song apart. She quickly shot a few layers of the background vocals to “Honey Honey” into her parroting device, and they were off.
An ill-placed stage light cast a 30-foot-tall, purple silhouette of Feist against the stage-right wall. I found it a far more representative depiction of her presence. Leslie looks strangely small on stage, accented by her strapless red dress which rather ironically screams “8th grade dance” and her enormous-looking guitar. I can’t seem to find a height measurement on the net, but I’d be shocked if she was anywhere above 5’5″ tall. Even from this seat (Dear Wiltern, please put the press seats closera ) I can tell that there’s something more to Feist than the usual songstress routine. She’s playful, she’s fun, she’s interactive, and she’s not unwilling to say something stupid to a crowd. To some people that might seem like a negative trait, but I’ve seen enough perfectly executed stage moves to see the beauty in an artist just wingin’ it up there. For all you record execs and fair-weather fans, rest assured that she played all her hits, even “One Evening,” and she played them magnificently. But the real pleasure of “One Two Three Four” was the audience, who had taken to dancing (badly) in every aisle and next to every fire exit, a beautifully awkward gesture of joy for an artist who was (secretly) doing it just for that.
