Edinburgh International Festival

The National – Edinburgh Castle

Festivals, Live music, Music Review

No matter how many times you’ve seen The National live before, you never quite know what their next performance will deliver: Chaos; Ecstasy; Frivolity; Indignation; the Apocalypse. Just about anything is possible.

The darkly solemn lyrics of frontman Matt Berninger coupled with the delicately euphoric indie rock tones of his six bandmates are a heady mix on record but when given the large-scale flesh-and-blood treatment of an arena – or temporary stadium, in front of a castle, atop an extinct volcano – the experience is thoroughly intoxicating.

Their headline performance at Edinburgh Castle capped off a string of hugely successful summer festival dates and open-air shows across Europe and the UK including Primavera Sound, Montreux Jazz Festival and Glastonbury, and as testament to their still ever-growing popularity, fans travelled from all over to be in attendance, with some transient international visitors even buying tickets on the night.

Bess Atwell opened the night; her buttery, mellifluous vocal resonating over the Old Town in the early evening sun. The ease of her performance belied any end-of-tour emotions she may have been feeling, as well as the illness which she later disclosed via social media. Instead she played with an easy charm, drawing mostly on songs from her latest album “Light Sleeper” which was produced by The National’s Aaron Dessner. The opening 1-2 of “Everybody Who’s Not In Love With You Is Wrong” and “Release Myself” was even more devastating than on record and the building beauty of “Something Now” soared as the clouds broke to allow a little golden light onto the highest grandstand seating.

When The National arrived on stage Berninger was in a savagely playful mood, mingling and tormenting fans and occasionally spouting political quips. At times his voice came with more force than melody but as the set wore on he seemed to settle into the songs with a commanding -and less threatening- presence.

Throughout “Don’t Swallow The Cap” he focused his effort on collecting and arranging cardboard signs from the audience; an unusual recent phenomenon for anyone other than Springsteen but it seems this expression of fandom is making a welcome comeback.

The run of “I Need My Girl”, “Slow Show” and “Sorrow” drew a particularly adoring reaction from the crowd but the intensity was regularly offset by Berninger’s tangential introductions and he even maliciously disembowelled a soft toy with his teeth during “Alien”.

The set concluded with “Fake Empire” before the band returned for a five-song power-encore that featured a duet with Bess Atwell, a dedication to Scott Hutchison and Tiny Changes and Berninger testing the limit of his microphone lead as he roamed the audience during “Terrible Love”. The almost-traditional closer of an unplugged “Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks” cascaded from all sides of the castle as Berninger gathered his cardboard mementos and exited the stage, leaving just acoustic guitars and a few hundred voices echoing their refrain.

John Grant – Edinburgh Playhouse

Live music, Music Review

Full Disclosure: I love John Grant. From the very first play of Pale Green Ghosts – which I bought purely on the basis of Amazon’s persistent recommendation and the colour of the typeface used for his name on the cover – I was head over heels for his earthy baritone and acerbic lyrics. The unfamiliar blend of piano balladry and electronica got right under my skin. Without investigating his musical lineage or consulting any of my gig buddies I bought a ticket for his show at the O2 ABC that October and found myself on the barrier, positively beaming for the entire set. He had this sexy disco lumberjack vibe going that was utterly endearing; I walked away from that gig dazed but heart-full. I saw John play in each of the next 3 years. His performances with the Royal Northern Sinfonia were astonishingly beautiful and incredibly inspiring. At the very last show of touring Pale Green Ghosts, on his birthday no less, he dueted on Glacier with Villagers’ Conor O’Brien, dedicating it to Ireland, where same-sex marriage had recently been legalised by popular vote.

Each show and every tour was, in its own way, very special – I mean, the last time I saw him, at Celtic Connections, one of my very best friends was supporting – and so when I arrived at the Edinburgh Playhouse on Monday evening my heart was already this kind of translucent sponge, eager to soak up as much of that voice and wit and charm as the night would allow. As it happened, the night allowed for plenty as the show was expected to run from 8pm until approximately 9.30pm with no support or interval. 90 minutes to just sit and absorb. You could feel the excitement and anticipation among the crowd, hurrying into their seats and checking times with every steward on the way in.

When the lights went down almighty applause erupted and sustained until John and his band were all in their positions. Then, a pause. The pulsing beat and electronic arpeggio opening You Don’t Have To saw the crowd instantly nodding along. It was calm for the most part; soothing melancholy love songs interspersed with increasingly raucous applause and the occasionally indecipherable come-on from somewhere in the back of the stalls. The set was light on songs from the most recent album, 2015’s Grey Tickles, Black Pressure, but flowed nicely and allowed John to move between synth, piano and vocal duties regularly, working the stage strategically. With otherwise perfect posture he committed to TC & Honeybear with his whole body, expressing through piano sentiments that cannot quite be articulated by words and melody combined.

The performer-audience cycle repeated thus; powerfully emotive song, rapturous applause, restorative pause. “I’m glad we can enjoy silence together” John quipped. “This is for you” he continued before delivering a first class rendition of GMF. One “fun song to play” lead to another and Pale Green Ghosts was met with yet a greater level of enthusiasm from the already fervent crowd. There was a maelstrom of lights across the stage and in the centre, while not singing, John stood with his hands outstretched toward the heavens, as if conducting the storm. This exhibition filled the vastness of the stage convincingly with the drummer at one point upstanding to play. The sheer physicality of the sound was reciprocated with thunderous applause after a final flash plunged the stage into darkness, so loud that you couldn’t even hear John’s gratitude. This cleared the sonic landscape for newcomer and title track from the forthcoming album Love Is Magic, due in October. The bittersweet, synth-heavy song isn’t exceptional to his usual pallette but stood out partly for the fact it is very familiar to some fans and not at all to others; the mixed reception was noticeable. The song features layers of sounds filtering through like an 80s sci-fi soundtrack or arcade game (most likely inspired by the latter; John was actually wearing an Atari Centipede t-shirt). Perhaps it stood in contrast to what played before it; it certainly couldn’t be more different to what followed. In its emphatic simplicity Glacier lays John’s sonorous voice as the centrepiece, gradually adorned with piano flourishes that grow into an epic flurry of percussive harmonies. It was followed swiftly and gracefully by Queen Of Denmark as John took to the piano to conduct the rest of his band through the dramatic finale, fists futilely pounding at the keyboard while guitar and drums battled for ultimate supremacy of volume. As the last brutal dynamic explosion occurred many of the crowd quickly leapt from their seats in fits of furious applause. I wouldn’t have believed those 3000 people could get any louder, but here, they sure showed me! The madness spread until all three levels of seating had delivered a standing ovation and beckoned John and his supporting musicians back to the stage.

Although it was obviously a planned encore it was pitched to the audience, rather than the occasion. Sigourney Weaver made it into the final act by request. In one final burst of shimmering synth, Black Belt had people throwing shapes in their seats, even out of their seats, like the weekend was just getting started. After an hour and 50 minutes of music everywhere you looked there were people grooving and smiling and bouncing, all under the spell of John Grant. And even if they weren’t, I was. I am. I love John Grant.

Setlist

You Don’t Have To

Outer Space

Marz

Grey Tickles, Black Pressure

Global Warming

TC and Honeybear

It’s Easier

GMF

Pale Green Ghosts

Love Is Magic

Glacier

Queen of Denmark

___

Vietnam

Caramel

It Doesn’t Matter To Him

Sigourney Weaver

Black Belt

New Worlds; Bill Murray, Jan Vogler & Friends – Festival Theatre

Discovery, Live music, Music Review

“I swear to you there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell.”

Critiquing performance requires an open mind. Sure, some understanding of form, style and genre will help. Context is important; knowing where and how a piece fits within an artist’s catalogue can provide insight into what is being presented. In the theatre or concert hall a trained eye will scrutinise presence and movement, the ears will assess vocalisation and technical proficiency, and the mind will follow storylines and characterisation. Critiquing performance requires a wealth of experience and knowledge of the subject. In this respect I am not qualified to pass judgement on Bill Murray and Jan Vogler’s “New Worlds” production but with an open mind I have observed this:

The show draws links between Johann Sebastian Bach and Ernest Hemingway, Van Morrison, Mark Twain and George Gershwin. It pairs comedy with classical music. It is rooted in the deep love of literature, poetry and performance. It is not a play, or a musical, or a recital, or a reading yet it draws on all of these performance types, creating a sort of cabaret experience that is at times abstract and entertaining, while otherwise being complete, immersive escapism.

The audience reflects this diversity; there are ladies in pearls and gentlemen in suits, there are students and retirees, celebrities, a couple down the front of the stalls in iconic red “Zissou” beanies. This collaboration clearly has broad appeal. It’s delightful to witness so many different people gathered in one room and once the show gets going everyone is off on a journey together.

The concept for the show is quite simple: American actor, Murray and German cellist, Vogler met a few years ago and became firm friends over their mutual interests in classical music and American literature. In 2016 the notion for a performance combining these came when Vogler heard Murray’s public reading of a Walt Whitman poem. The task of connecting the dots between music and words across continents is equally ambitious and exciting and the two leads, joined by Mira Wang on violin and Vanessa Perez on piano, are invested in delivering something that is both entertaining and enlightening.

The programme begins with an extract from an interview with Hemingway, Murray acting as interviewer and interviewee – acting as all characters throughout the evening in fact, his is the only voice heard from the stage. This isn’t as confusing as it sounds since he is an accomplished voice actor; later he portrays three separate French characters within a single scene to humorous effect. The Hemingway piece functions as an introduction for Vogler and his instrument.  His playing is delicate and precise and in an instant the audience understands – this is a world class performance. There is a sort of thematic chronology to the programme. Overall the tone is quite light, romantic, with vivid language setting the mind to distant places and periods.  On Ravel’s “Blues” the playing is especially jovial as Wang shines, both in her playing and appearance. The stage is minimal but glamorous, set before a grand piano, the respective performers in their suits and gowns. There are no distractions, the focus is always on the music or the words. Yet it’s not an entirely static or regimented production; audience participation is welcomed on “It Ain’t Necessarily So” as Murray’s naturally gruff vocal is revealed for the first time. His contributions are mainly spoken but as the evening progresses he becomes more inclined to melody. To be clear, Bill Murray is not a fantastic live singer. Anyone expecting him to pull off a Bing Crosby screen-to-stage transformation will walk away disillusioned.  That’s not where his strength lies. In the lower register his voice is sweet and expressive, his accent softened slightly for added sensitivity to dynamics but as a skilled, dramatic performer he knows how to use his full range of voice to convey sentiment. He uses, or rather brutalises, a Van Morrison number to really stretch those vocal chords before laying into an utterly captivating reading from “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn”.  Vogler’s tender rendition of Henry Mancini’s “Moon River” elevates this beautiful piece of storytelling and even as Murray speaks Vogler, a metre or so to his right, sits spellbound in silent rapture. Like a parent reading to a child, putting on different voices and accents for the characters, Murray holds his audience in this most intimate and calmly intense moment. Suspense in the story translates to suspense on the stage, emphasising how well crafted this showcase truly is.

The partnering of music with verse is confounding and revelatory to the very last. Songs feature towards the end of the set with an amusing medley from “West Side Story”. Indeed it’s part of the greater narrative of the show but doesn’t necessarily add anything besides humour – an opportunity for Murray to shake out some inner silly that’s obviously been bubbling below the surface all night. He’s done well to stay assuredly serious this long. The performers all take their leave but are hastily beckoned back with admirable vigour. “We got nowhere else to go” Murray tells the audience wryly and the ensemble proceed to run through a spontaneous repertoire of songs and poetry as diverse as the preceding event. There’s tittering among the audience in response to Murray’s pronunciation of loch before a “Loch Lomond” singalong ensues with the house lights illuminating the crowd and drawing them into the production once more.

This surreal evening closes with Bill Murray ambling through the stalls tossing long-stemmed roses to patrons. And a standing ovation. I’m still not entirely sure what we’ve just witnessed; something fun, intriguing, special, musical, unique, creative, inspiring, something beautiful…more than words can tell.