St. Vincent’s touring group is called the Down and Out Downtown Band, an airtight unit that includes bassist keyboardist Rachel Eckroth, guitarist Jason Falkner, drummer Mark Guiliana, bassist Justin Meldal-Johnsen, a squad of powerhouse backup singers and—this was a new one to me—a roadie/hypewoman dressed in the bright red-and-yellow diner server's uniform, who brought the star guitars and occasional refreshments.
It's appropriate to recognize these players here, at the opening of this review, because the artistic polymath born Annie Clark made an enormous effort to recognize them onstage at the Pearl on October 1—not just with the traditional, “let’s hear it for the band” stage acknowledgement, but in nearly every damn thing she did. From the easygoing, funky intro to “Digital Witness” to the epic flourishes of “The Melting of the Sun,” Clark made sure every single player’s contributions were recognized. She did so by engaging with each and every one of them directly, even climbing onto the drummer and keyboardists’ risers and bowing to them in praise. The implied message was clear: "Don't look at what I'm doing; look at what they're doing." You almost never see that happen, even in bands more democratic than that surrounding a solo star.
Virtually the whole of St. Vincent’s set is composed of surprises and out-of-body moments. Her voice is so clear and strong, her movements so strong and compelling and her interactions with the crowd so effortlessly friendly that it nearly feels like a performance on top of a performance—like the audience was hired to know every lyric to every song, or to gently and respectfully bear Clark aloft while she crowd-surfs through “New York.” (She sang an entire verse while floating on a sea of hands, and didn’t stumble over single a note. Incredible.) It looks like magic, but it’s really just backbreaking hard work. Clark brings everything she’s got to the stage, and she uses every bit of it.
Musical highlights were many. “Daddy’s Home,” “Birth in Reverse” and “Los Ageless”—which included a bit of Nine Inch Nails’ “Heresy,” and the singer wearing a ballcap with that band’s distinctive logo—all roared from the stage like caged maneaters. The Prince-liked “Pay Your Way in Pain” achieved peak Minneapolis shimmy, and damn if there weren’t “Great Gig in the Sky” vibes floating through “Your Lips are Red.”
And there’s perhaps no better proof of Clark’s collaborative spirit than “Fast Slow Disco,” an energized re-interpretation of one of Masseduction’s best songs directly inspired by Taylor Swift. Everyone got into the act—the backing singers, the audience on the floor, even that brightly-attired roadie. “Don’t it beat a slow dance to death?” Clark sang, and the crowd bounced along in unanimous agreement.
Clark even gave the Pearl a legit Vegas moment. Holding aloft a drink that the roadie brought to her on a tray, she winked to the crowed with some breathy, Streisand-like crooning, and raised a toast to the fans who’d followed the tour for multiple shows. She ended the bit with a solid joke: “This is LaCroix,” she said, brandishing the glass. “But I’m incredibly mysterious, and I’m not going to tell you which flavor.” Then she strapped her guitar back on, and returned to the work of burning the place down.
