St. Vincent: OMNIPRESENT

Photo credit to Jared Howard.

The lovely, hypnotizing St. Vincent graced Miami, FL this past Monday October 7th, at the Fillmore Theater for the Digital Witness Tour. Annie Clark is a quirky woman who is absolutely in love with music and performance, as she couldn't hold back her grin all throughout her guitar solos during the show. Her music is a mesmerizing mix of delicious noise, pop structure, strange wonderings about the world, put-together characters who have gone mad underneath, and facades. Her newest eponymous LP takes her persona and craft to a new level. Clark's presence on St Vincent is confident, elevated, amplified, yet a little distanced, observing all thoughts and fears through a transcendental medium. Her voice reaches the ear as if she was truly a saint bathed in the light of a stage. The art direction on this album also reinforces the concept of spirituality and existentiality being affected by technology. Many regard Clark as a guitar prodigy of our generation, and while she may be very aware of her scope and ability, she presents this album with an acknowledging smirk. Sitting on a silicone throne in front of chicken wire with an authoritative gaze, she represents hollow glory, her bleached hair like a fuzzy halo. With this album she also makes commentary on the digital age we live in, regarding cyber-bullying, being connected-yet-alone through the internet, and seeking personal approval via social media. If we function in a virtual world, are we really living? is what Clark the perspicacious 'guitar goddess' tells us.

Accompanying Clark onstage were "architect-of-sound" Matt Johnson, a "tamer-of-the-grid" in place of Daniel Mintseris, and the faithful Toko Yasuda. Donning a silver bob, Clark began skittering and tiptoeing across the stage in little black boots. St. Vincent's stage presence is simple in appearance yet more elaborate than ever before. She has added choreography that can be described as isolated, robotic lurching, mixed with dainty touches, meant to be interpreted symbolically by the viewer. The set list (in loose order) opened with Rattlesnake, Digital Witness, while following these included: Cruel, Marrow, Every Tear Disappears, Surgeon, I Prefer Your Love, a batshit crazy performance of Krokodil, Cheerleader, Prince Johnny, Huey Newton, Regret, Birth in Reverse, Laughing with a Mouth Full of Blood, Actor Out of Work, Bring Me Your Loves, and ended with Your Lips Are Red. Between songs every so often, Clark recited personal anecdotes regarding a failed bedsheet hot air balloon, psychically paying for her purchase at a 7/11 after 11pm, superimposing celebrity faces on people in public when she forgot her glasses, and seeing children as tiny adults. Within these stories were themes of unfulfilled hope, poor assumptions of people we do not know, and her funny ways of looking at the world which were meant to correlate to the songs that followed. She humorously assumed that Miami folk share with her the fact that her favorite word is 'orgiastic'.

Songs that sound poppy on studio recordings now had an extra kick in person from her ratty abrasive guitar. Notable performances included I Prefer Your Love, Prince Johnny, and closer Your Lips Are Red. Elegantly composed on her steps, Clark's silky performance of I Prefer Your Love was heart-wrenchingly transparent. Empathic for her mother and seeking her approval, she bowed her head in somber sorrow at the end as she reached for the deep resonating notes of, "Little baby on your knees, 'cause the world has got you down..." Later, atop the pink pedestal, she sang a choir of pleas for a friend in Prince Johnny and at the end, fell from grace, tumbling down the steps in stop-motion lighting until she unfolded into an upside down crucifixion. Frightening red and sickly green lights interplayed for the first movement of Your Lips Are Red. During a guitar solo that felt like it lasted forever (in a good sense!), Clark attended to the entire length of the stage, letting the crowd touch her guitar and play its strings as she held chords. She then sprawled across the stage floor underneath chaotic blue lights playing, and after slowly rising, she eventually began to sing "Your skin so fair, it's not fair." As her guitar wailed til the end, I felt the loss and intangibility of everyone in the room, of Clark herself. This had to be the collective consciousness concept she talked about halfway through the set.

Photo credit to Jared Howard.

I teared up at least three times during this show, moved by her treatment of the songs, her skill, the thoughtfulness put into choreography and anecdotes, and the weight of the stories and ideas behind the songs which are sometimes overlooked on the album. If you watch performances of her new songs on various talk shows and venues, you will become able to identify her choreography and see how it lends to ideas of an empty, impersonal, mechanical society; or how her simple gestures can imply disturbing assumptions, such as when she drags her fingers across her throat. I was shellshocked after the show and I'm still trying to process all that happened. This is definitely an artist to respect, who creates magnificent, innovative and unsettling under-the-surface music.