Beirut was coming to town. An event I had actually been waiting for, for more than a year. Only a few weeks short of the gig in Hamburg, Zach Condon had cancelled all the remaining concerts of his tour, leaving me – and a few hundred of other fans - with nothing to hold on to but a little piece of plastic to turn over and over in the player... That was in late 2007. Today, there is a new small, round piece of plastic in the player and the band is up on the road again.
Actually I didn’t really know what to expect. I only knew that, after the Bloc Party concert in February I had sworn never to set foot into that nasty club again: Docks. And had I known that Beirut was going to play there, I guess I wouldn’t even have bought the ticket. But as things were, the concert had been moved to the Docks only after I bought the ticket and I could only hope for a better climate and less people than at the Bloc Party gig. The first came true – the second didn’t. It was sold out and as crowed as it could get. A nice mixture of old and young, trendy and alternative, music snobs and event-concert-goers occupied the vast space in front of the stage. A strange setting for music like that.
Until we finally got to hear the beautiful melancholic tunes of Beirut, we were however forced to go through – an awfully long – half-hour of Winter in Alaska. Hearing parts of his songs on his Last.fm profile I was actually quite curious about this very special brand of indietronic. And at first the funny video performance that turned the one-man-band into an orchestra, and the catchy beats of the song had serious charm. Too bad however, that this charm wore off just as fast as the modulated voice of Brandon Bethancourt started to strain my ears (and nerves). But as they say: even the worst support band does not play forever. And we were finally compensated with a solid hour of beautiful solemn tunes, originating somewhere between Mexico and the Balkan.
Beirut was in good shape and seemed particularly pleased with the enthusiasm the crowd showed to very single brass solo or accordion intro. A splendid gig by all means. But not as stirring as I had pictured it to be. I blame it mainly on the club.
Only 48 hours later, there was another long-awaited concert of me: Andrew Bird and Laura Marling played Hamburg’s Uebel und Gefaehrlich. What an incredibly lucky twist of fate that brought two of my most treasured musicians together on one stage, at one night? I was not alone in my excitement, and even though the concert was far from sold out, I found myself surrounded by my own private Laura-and-Andrew-lovers-clique.
Unlike Cat, who had seen Laura perform twice already, it was the first time for me to see that talented, fair-voiced young girl perform. The half-hour was over in an instance. The girl in the red shoes was gone, but her beautiful melodies still seemed to linger in the air while the stage was being set up for Andrew Bird.
I had actually seen him before. Hardly knowing him at all, I had watched him from afar while he – and his violin and guitar alone – had enchanted an entire four-story theatre hall at The Hague’s Crossing Border Festival in late 2007. But this time everything was different. Not just because I had grown to know and love his magnificent tunes and thoughtful lyrics, also because this time he had taken along his four-piece band. Due to his musical support we got to see less of his magical loop-technique that enables him to slowly rise from a single whistled tune and a few chords on the violin onto the heights of an entire orchestral soundscape… – the band support was however able to transform Andrew Bird’s chamber-music into driving rock songs and catchy pop hymns. Surprising, delightful, simply beautiful.
Cat has been calling that concert by Andrew Bird and Laura Marling the gig of the year. And even though the year is quite far from its conclusion I am quite inclined to agree.
pics: © Cat!
