The Wilderness of Manitoba (Leif Vollebekk / Olenka Krakus)
The Horseshoe Tavern. Thursday, November 25, 2010.
A No Shame-promoted Thursday night at The 'Shoe is probably going to get a pretty good crowd, so my main worry going into this one was whether it would be quiet enough to hear the bands. Thankfully, the fact that the whole bill was on the quieter/folky side probably kept away some of those looking for a more hootin' and hollerin' sort of show, and it worked out generally okay. The night started with the quietest of the three acts — London's Olenka Krakus who was, on this night, performing sans her Autumn Lovers. I was, admittedly, checking this out more out of curiosity than devotion, as the only other time I had seen Krakus perform, it hadn't done much for me. But she had gotten some pretty glowing reviews for her new album And Now We Sing so I tried to see if I had been missing out on something.
For this night, Krakus was getting by with the help of some Toronto friends in the form of a rotating support cast from the evening's headliners. That included Stefan Banjevic's cello and Melissa Dalton's harmony vocals on "45". "The rest of the band is drunk in London," Krakus joked with the crowd while introducing "Berlin", the first of a few songs done totally solo. The thinner crowd out for the opening slot were paying attention to her warm voice ("I believe this might be the quietest I've even seen The Horseshoe," she commented) making this feel like the right situation to properly appreciate her efforts. Still alone on stage, she did a beautiful version of Big Star's "Thirteen", her voice illustrating the yearning ache of the lyrics. This went a fair ways towards winning me over.
And then Banjevic and Dalton returned, this time joined by Will Whitwham, making a whole alternate mini-band for "Mama's Bag". Feeling at ease in front of a crowd that was playing attention, Krakus played "Shadow Walker", a fresh one, newer than her just-released album. The set closed with the older "Flash in the Pan", Whitwham getting to join in on what he called of his "favourite songs ever".
A worthy set — enough that next time around, I'll go in prepared to pay some closer attention.
Listen to a track from this set here.
The first time I saw Leif Vollebekk I was actually a little surprised that it clicked with me. I'm generally suspicious of singer-songwriters who wear their Dylan-ish influences so openly on their sleeves — if only out of a sense of their general fungibility. But something in Vollebekk's toothy smile and unaffected air — not to mention his songs — did work for me.
He's pretty open about his inspirations — there's no doubting the affinity he feels for a scuff-it-up-a-bit sonic approach. "It's out of tune — this is an homage to Neil Young," he said, launching "Off the Main Drag". "If not, the next one will be." But lyrically, he's more inclined toward Dylan, cementing that with a cover of "You're A Big Girl Now".
With the room filling in, there was a bit more background chatter by that point so I was glad to see him with a backing rhythm section, including stand-up bass. The trio brought a nice kick to "Don't Go To Klaksvik". Besides that one, there's a marked geographic theme to Vollebekk's titles, with the set also including "Quebec", "Southern United States"1 and "Cairo Blues" all helping to mark him as the classic sort of wandering singer, soaking up everything he sees.
He did a lot of tuning between songs, but it was mostly covered with engaging banter and it didn't leave much sense of dead time sapping the momentum. And keeping things nicely mixed up, the set closed with his slowed-down take on Neil Young's "Barstool Blues", now with just Vollebekk plus his drummer, the delivery involving a loop pedal to build up a sonic backdrop of violin parts behind his electric playing. A good closer, capping off a solid set of well-written songs and earnest delivery.
Listen to a song from this set here.
Though I was no stranger to them, this was probably the first time I was eager to see The Wilderness of Manitoba. I was a little dubious after the first couple times I had seen 'em, filing their gentle folk excursions in the "merely pleasant" pile. My opinion was changed a bit by their sheer ubiquity as a local live act, but moreso by actually sitting down and listening to their full-length When You Left the Fire, which really made a case for the band.
I was worried that a show in a get-drunk-and-loud bar environment might not be the place to consolidate my appreciation, but leading off with the rollicking beat of "Dreamcatchers" (from their 2009 debut EP), it seemed like the band has learned something about grabbing the attention of a larger, maybe less-attentive crowd. Getting people onside with something upbeat allowed them to hold onto people when they followed it up with the quieter "Orono Park". As the set went on, people got yappier, alas, but never enough to impact too much on the set.
And this was a good room for the band's harmonies, which are central to their sound. With a line of microphones up front, the well-arranged four-part harmonies are one of the band's strongest points. That they are writing some strong songs to put their voices into helps as well, and I was glad to hear "Hermit", one of the selections from the album that had made me think I'd been selling the band short. The set drew mostly from the album, though they threw in the unreleased "Forest City Love" and closed out the main set with "Evening" — a signature song of sorts, and one of the original touchstones that defined the band's sound.
They returned for a couple more, closing with the seasonally-correct "November", another of the album's best tracks. No doubt playing a lot of shows and getting out on the road a bit had done the band some good — overall, they were more focused than when I'd seen 'em before, holding things together over a longer set. All told, a warming finish to a good night.
A couple different flavours on tap: check out a couple songs from this set here and here.
1 That one made for a weird coincidence: Krakus had played a song called "Berlin", and this song talked about listening to Lou Reed's Berlin.
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