Laura Veirs in Philadelphia, Thursday, May 17, 2007
A handful of dream songs at the Tin Angel
By Caralyn Green
Published: May 20th, 2007 | 3:53pm
Laura Veirs’ strength as an artist has always been her words, her poetry. Nautical and foggy and hopeful in her nacreous pain. Fading constellations, sea grass, zirconium smiles, and olivine eyes, illuminated and pulsated by a plucked guitar, sparse percussion, and the occasional moan of a viola. A red sandal taps, and glasses mist over with salty desire.
The Tin Angel, an intimate, boho chic venue in Philadelphia, served as the perfect, idiosyncratic vessel for Veirs’ coiled, literate yarns on Thursday, May 17, 2007. Snug clusters of two-seated tables, a snaking ledge for leaning, crystalline acoustics, and flowing whiskey and red wine primed the cozy audience of hipsters-to-yupsters for Veirs’ generous set, which drew predominately from her new album, Saltbreakers, but also integrated hallowed treasures like “Galaxies” and “Parisian Dream.” Much to my heart’s chagrin, though, the murky, vision-and-breath-obscuring “Magnetized” remained concealed in Veirs’ psyche, at least for the time being. However, one can always hold out for Veirs’ next tour, mentioned on Thursday as a late-summer outing with fellow elegiac chanteuse Mirah – a much more competent and mesmerizing tourmate than current partners Lake, an Olympia quartet that relies far too heavily on dimpled twee giggles and neglects those elements that actually matter to most listeners, such as skillful execution and lyrics that coulda been written by someone other than a three-year-old who loves unicorns and swingsets and his mommy.
Veirs, who transcended cuteness for prowess long ago, was backed by longtime band the Saltbreakers (formerly the Tortured Souls), outfitted in matching, hand-embroidered suits, with Veirs in a belted shift of gingham and trestled bursts of flowered vines. Although Veirs is surely a competent enough vocalist and musician on her own, the Saltbreakers fleshed out her act with an endearing bric-a-brac of self-conscious harmonies and polyrhythmic claps, with Karl Blau on guitar and bass, Steve Moore on the keys, and Tucker Martine on the drums. Martine’s name may sound familiar due to his work as a producer on Saltbreakers, as well as on the Decemberists’ ambitious, eloquent, and similarly viscous The Crane Wife.
Veirs certainly shares a briny, Northern Pacific lyricism with the Decemberists, but where that band is all roguish bravado, Veirs has cultivated a silvery earthiness – a sinewy hush that came across beautifully at the Tin Angel, where lingering eye contact, subtle musicianship, and words that throb like wounds reigned.
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Photos by Caralyn Green
Issue #25
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