Glasser, Sampha and Cloud Castle Lake (Crawdaddy, Dublin) on February 24th
Review by James Hendicott
Photos by Ronan Shaw
Crawdaddy is a criminally small venue for the likes of Glasser to find herself performing in. Not that we’re complaining. The chance to stand in front of the doll-like New Yorker in a room only slightly bigger than a Dublin-city-centre apartment is one that’s unlikely to come around again in a hurry, after all. When we arrive, tonight’s show is yet to even sell out, so perhaps the word hasn’t spread as far as we thought it might have just yet, but it’s only a matter of time.
Before we’re treated to Ms. Cameron Mesirow’s theatrics, though, tonight’s local representatives are Cloud Castle Lake, a band we formed a passing affection for after seeing them perform at Electric Picnic last summer. Formerly a rock band, Cloud Castle Lake have taken an astute change in direction, and now perform a delicate take on slow-paced, emotionally-tinged electronica. Granted, there’s still the occasional hefty-guitar edge to their tracks, but for the most part, these guys are portraying the pain of being, and effectively at that. The vocals, however, have a distinctly marmite-y tinge, spinning sharply from the sublime to the borderline cringe worthy. When they get the high-pitched, almost instrumental aspects of the lyrics right, they’re a band you could watch for hours. With such a hefty vocal-focus, however, every slight off-key note is emphasized ten fold, and one or two do jump out. Their live performances are improving, but they’re not quite there.
Sampha offers something completely different. A solo performer who loops his own soul-inspired vocals over a clever, jarring electronic beat, he’s blending two genres that normally sit at musical extremities. When it works, Sampha comes across as quite stunningly original, especially in the tracks where his computer-looped instrumental-based vocals form the backing track to the more standard lyrics, which are then layered a third time with some slow, pulsing beats. Lyrically, though, Sampha is vicious – perhaps self-deprecatingly so, it’s hard to tell – but lines like “nobody could ever love you” certainly put a dark tinge on things. He’s wacky enough to spark plenty of interest, and while I’m happy to applaud the originality, I wouldn’t go out and buy it.
The support acts, though, are a mere prelude to one of last year’s biggest underground smashes. Glasser’s 2010 debut album ‘Ring’ was a slow-building success, making an impact with minimal promotion, largely through word-of-mouth and a bit of a love in from those over at Pitchfork. Come the turn of the year, the album edged its way into plenty of ‘best of 2010’ lists, for the simple reason that ‘Ring’ is exceptionally ambitious in a colorful, slow-building, hypnotic sense.
Live, Cameron has a three-piece band in tow, and they’re all dressed in onesies, a furry contrast to the singer’s oriental-doll like get up. Crawdaddy’s slightly raised stage means most of the crowd can only grab the slightest glimpse at her attire, which means large parts of tonight’s crowd are missing out the on-stage enthusiasm that adds a still deeper dimension to the performance. We doubt they leave any less impressed, however, having witnessed a set list that consists of ‘Ring’ in its entirety, with a sensationally vibrant rendition of blog-smash ‘T’ arguably the highlight. ‘Mirrorage’, ‘Clamour’ and ‘Apply’ are all both note-perfect and dramatic, though, and the set flows and resonates touchingly. Those well-touted comparisons to Bjork are impossible to miss. There’s a sense of mystery, the same feel that’s reflected in the kaleidoscopic videos, that threatens to transport the listener to a mythically tribal corner that’s pulses and beats ebb and flow with the tide.
It’s rare to see an audience respond to a performance with such universal respect and acclaim: the reception is not an iota short of rapturous. Of course, Glasser couldn’t leave the stage to such approval and not return for an encore. With none of the album left unplayed, we’re treated to a sublime a cappella rendition of Pentangle’s aged folk track “Let No Man Steal Your Thyme”, a performance that’s greeted with pin-drop silence by an enraptured crowd. For all Glasser’s stirring originality, it’s her operatic-quality vocal output that lifts her level to genuinely exceptional, and this format it gets the chance to really shine. Quirky, imaginative and emotionally affecting are all descriptions that are over-used in music criticism. Tonight, though, Glasser justifies every one.
