Feist @ Fillmore Detroit - 4/10/08

Nick Meador

A minor trip-up at the start of last week’s Feist concert couldn’t hinder what was destined to be a special evening. After an apparent malfunction with some visual equipment, she grabbed the mic and said, “We’re just gonna play some music for you.” Instead of getting frustrated at the technological mishap, she just skipped around the stage and strapped on her beautiful red guitar. Then Leslie Feist, and her band of four men dressed in white, began to play. They opened with a loud, dark, crunchy version of “When I Was A Young Girl,” originally from her 2004 album Let It Die.

By the end of that first song, the crowd was completely tuned in. Feist announced that we were “breaking her touring cherry once again.” Although Detroit is often passed over on national tours, it was the first stop on Feist’s route around the eastern U.S. before heading off to Europe. And the Fillmore Detroit is quite the place to kick things off.                 

Hayden – the one-man guitar/harmonica opener – commented that it was a very beautiful venue that we were lucky to have, and if he lived here he would come every day. Somehow I thought the name-change to Fillmore Detroit (and new ownership by the mega-corporation Live Nation) would also change the atmosphere, but I was wrong. It helped that it’s been smoke-free for about eight years now, but it simply feels amazing in there. Everything from the staircase to the chandeliers has a certain regal nature. The ceiling of the theater hosts a round light ten feet wide that glows dimly yet assuredly, like a moon. The place gives you some hope for Detroit, even though rotting, abandoned buildings surround the theater.

Feist with her band on the Detroit Fillmore stage. (photo by Gretchen Hageman)

Within the safe haven of the concert, Feist played almost every song from her debut and last year’s non-sophomore-slumping The Reminder. Almost half were played in a noticeably different manner than in their original recordings. “Mushaboom” was the most memorable, played as a sort of road version with a rolling drumbeat and the spirit of a great traveler. During “Brandy Alexander,” all the band members’ shadows were cast up on the big screen in pink and purple and orange, appearing to be a mural interpretation My Bloody Valentine’s unforgettable Loveless cover.                 

Feist seemed perfectly at home on stage, and she had complete control over the crowd. Whether she asked us to wave our arms, or even sing background vocals on “1 2 3 4,” we did it. She would enter into free-flowing monologues, chatting with the crowd before “So Sorry” or in the middle of “The Park.” One story focused on her visit to the Motown Museum earlier that day. Many Michiganders don’t even know that there is such a museum. She said that her cell phone rang inside and she felt extremely embarrassed, like she had committed “sacrilege.”                 

Her voice was especially mesmerizing throughout the performance. Some claim that her voice is only fully realized on the stage, either because all elements are so carefully constructed on album, or because such an instrument just can’t be captured fully on tape. What’s more, Feist demonstrated guitar abilities that far exceeded my expectations. She used a looper effect pedal repeatedly, allowing her to layer vocal bits and guitar licks. It was likely lost on the crowd how much coordination this takes in a live performance. One must time the recording interval so that it matches with the song tempo, and remember to sing and play the lead parts on top of the recording.                 

Watching Feist play that hulky red guitar was quite a treat. The traditional symbolism of a guitar in rock music is that of a phallus. In other words, men throughout the decades have wielded one as if they were waving an enormous dong around – usually as some combination of their uncontrollable ego and compensation for sexual insecurity. But this is essentially a symbol for masturbation; if the guitar is the penis, then a man playing one is, in a way, playing with himself.                  

On the contrary, when a woman – in this case, Feist – takes a guitar into her arms, it becomes something entirely different. First of all, the guitar was almost as big as her. Secondly, she rocked harder than most men in indie rock today. She caressed that enormous device and coaxed out of it sounds that intensified her prowess. Her strumming became solidified as a sexual act. She was sex itself – but not in any way obscene or depraved.                                  

She exuded the kind of sexuality that all humans secretly long for, to worship and be worshipped. It was like rolling around in the sheets with that someone special on a Sunday morning and sensing that that moment is all that exists. But then instantaneously you are shot back and you’re being rocked in your mother’s arms as she sings a lullaby before bedtime. Then you thrust forward and see your as-yet-unborn daughter smiling and giggling – and that’s Feist too.                 

Finally, as a flailing attempt to take advantage of the visual art preparations, the assistants put up a white screen in front of the piano for “The Water.” A helper shone a light towards the crowd, pasting Feist’s shadow up against the screen as she sat at the piano bench. The light moved to and fro, and Feist looked like a phantom, floating and swaying as she sang and struck the keys. In this stage, she passed into the spirit realm and back again.                 

There’s always so much talk about an “everyman,” a trickle-down concept from medieval tales referring to a kind of all-encompassing individual. But what about “everywoman?” That’s basically what Feist became on stage that night. She was all women at once, embodying their love and power and creation. She was life and death at the same time, achieving for a second the kind of equilibrium that humanity strives to regain.

Another shot of Feist and her band. (photo by Gretchen Hageman)

Strangely, after a little web searching, I discovered that Feist and Broken Social Scene front man Kevin Drew are dating (according to a New York Times article last spring). Although, this might have been expected. The two are prominent members of that celebrated Toronto collective, who literally set the bar for indie rock accomplishments in this decade.                 

The past few years have seen a tumultuous turnover of various styles and influences. Broken Social Scene was, to some respect, at the crest of the wave (perhaps this is what they were getting at with “Windsurfing Nation”) that – according to different opinions –may or may not have broke around late 2006. Part of that would be due to BSS members straying from the pack to focus on multiple side projects and solo efforts. But more importantly, indie rock is starting to become pooled and commercialized just like alternative rock in the ‘90s.

With all the laundry rotations of buzz bands and hype, Feist stands alone – seemingly immune to whatever false energy is being passed through other parts of the world of music. The corporations and new media slobs keep grabbing in the dark, trying to get their hands on the talent and squeeze every possible penny or ounce of power out of them. I was afraid this had happened when Feist appeared in an Apple commercial last year. I fully expected the audience to be comprised of half-wit degenerates, only interested in her newfound commercial image. It seems that I was wrong once again. There was a sense in the air that everyone present was legitimately interested in Feist the artist, not Feist the iPod nano salesperson.

Throughout the first part of the show, two artists used a video camera to project paint and various items on the big screen at stage rear, but this technology also failed, bringing their contribution to an abrupt end. Feist apologized for this too, saying they had planned on presenting us with “huge simplicity.” Despite the technical difficulties, Feist in no way failed at that task. Everyone walked out feeling peaceful, serene, and happy. She did suggest that we all come to Bloomington, IN, if only to see the visual art in its functional state. Though the idea of trailing a band on tour sounds appealing, for most that idea is suffocated by the necessary attendance at work or school. Anyways, the the kind of simplicity demanded by the crowd was in excess. But the kind planned by Feist will have to wait until her next appearance in Michigan.

Questions or Comments?
Contact MusicEdge editor Nick Meador at meadorni@msu.edu