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Not to be outdone by Linnea, I, too, offer my personal account of the concert experience.
The performance took place at Avalon, near downtown Boston. My guess is that 500-600 people packed into the standing room pit and the balcony in order to hear this Portland-based group of singers.
During the performance of the opening band, Cass McCombs, Linnea and I discussed whether the singer's mustard sweater was more characteristic of Alex or Lowen.* We finally decided on Lowen, but noted that the striped sweater of the second guitarist might easily pass for Alex. Only three members comprised this band, and they sat close to the stage's edge. Their gentle folk style and proximity to the audience made the music seem more intimate. I was highly pleased to see the female artist play the trombone. During the intermission between Cass McCombs and the Decemberists, Peter and the Wolf played over the loudspeakers. Linnea and I had fun relating childhood impressions of this music in addition to semi-conducting our favorite parts (well, maybe that was just me). We were just getting round to the cat's failed attempt to pounce on the bird (for the second time through) when The Decemberists were finally ready.
This was my first encounter with a live version of The Decemberists, and I enjoyed their quirky costumes and stage decorations. Colorful birds transformed microphones into woodland trees, and an array of tiny lights created the starry skies behind. The costumes evoked historicism of a Goodwill variety: find a few clothes that work together and use your imagination to recreate the rest. Perhaps you can't pin the exact era down, but you recognize that the characters are from a different time and place. Elements of Russianism, street life mafia (and by the way, if you wear a fedora, I will fall in love with you), prairie, and Western all found a place in the mishmash. Colin Meloy entered in a red-and-white wide-striped shirt, Edwardian England style. I was looking for the straw hat, but alas, it was not there. Indeed, later he removed the striped shirt to reveal a purple button-down shirt with a wide tie. His thick-framed glasses, sideburns, and straight-cut medium length hair made him look slightly like a cartoon character I was sure I had seen before, but couldn't quite place. He was very relaxed with the audience, getting close to the edge of the stage and donning an audience member's hat during "A Cautionary Song" (correct me if I'm wrong on which song it was, Linnea). After opening with "The Tain," "We Both Go Down Together," and "Leslie Ann Levine," Meloy remarked, with drawling and well-timed humor, "We seem to have quite a few songs about sad...and...doomed relationships tonight. So, everyone who is in a sad...and...doomed relationship, these songs are for you. You can relate in your own sad and doomed way. Except you might note that all of these songs end in death. We don't recommend that. Just dump the guy (or girl). Don't jump off a cliff or drown." "The Bachelor and the Bride," "The Bagman's Gambit," and "Eli, the Barrow Boy" followed. (The Decemberists really do seem to enjoy ballads that end in death. But then, any good ballad worth its salt does the same, and The Decemberists draw off several elements of the ballad tradition, including the shape of the melodies and the diphthong-emphasizing intonation of the voice.)
I was extremely grateful that the program consisted mainly of Picaresque songs, being most familar with that album. I had my fingers crossed, hoping they would play my own favorite, "Engine Driver" (it was the first Decemberist song I ever encountered, and it still evokes that first love phenomenon whenever I hear it.) When towards the end of the second half of the concert, Meloy strummed those familiar opening guitar chords, I screamed and jumped with the rest of the crowd.
Audience participation was enthusiastic that night. I could hear several people singing along to their favorite songs. Others danced. Enthusiasm was more difficult to achieve in the latter activity merely because the venue was so crowded. I kept bumping into people if I tried to do anything more than in-place shuffling. Leading into the chorus of "July, July," the audience followed Meloy with a little call-and-response before joining in fully for the "July, July" bit. And during the encore "A Mariner's Revenge Song," we all screamed, as per instructions, as if we "were being swallowed by a whale."
What made the concert unique for me was the interpolation of Peter's theme into the violin solo section of "A Bagman's Gambit." The snippet of melody tied what had happened earlier in the evening to the concert. The effect was a bit surreal, because it revealed that the concert itself was not a self-contained unit; it could refer beyond itself. Unless, one wanted to argue, the intermission music was part of the concert. But it seemed cut off from the performed music by virtue of being played in the performers' absence, before they had entered the stage. Anyway, the occurrence raises some interesting questions that silly people such as me like to contemplate. I had a tremendous amount of fun, double-quadrupled by the fact that I was able to go with a friend. Memories last longer when formed in pairs.
And now I have "July, July," as sung by the Decemberists in October stuck in my head.
*I realize that my readership has grown past the covenant sphere. Thus, I have determined to explain people or places more adequately in the blog. Linnea, Alex, and Lowen are all Covenant students.
**Much thanks to Linnea, as well, whose memory and familiarity with Decemberists is greater than mine. I used your entry to make sure I got all the songs noted in the right order.