The historic Orpheum Theatre in downtown Phoenix, which normally hosts ballets and operas, was the venue for St. Vincent’s Phoenix appearance in support of her brilliant self-titled album released in late February. And quite ironically, attendees found themselves directed to their seats by elderly ushers in crimson jackets; not your typical procedure for a performance from an innovative electric guitarist/artist.
As the opener finished, stage hands pulled off black sheets to reveal a larger-than-usual drum set on the left rear of the stage, two keyboard stands on the right, and a large, pink platform with three steps in the center of the stage. At 9:15, the lights go out and a rumbling bass sound blasts out from the stage and then a robot generator voice speaks, “Greetings, please refrain from digitally recording your experience. Thank you, St. Vincent.”
Shortly after, four people walked on stage, including Annie Clark, who performs as St. Vincent, sporting a pink dress with red fabric on the front and her Einstein-esque hairdo. She and her keyboardist/guitarist, Toko Yasuda, walked out with stiff legs and small steps, like robotic marionettes as the quacking synth intro of “Rattlesnake” begins. Clark marionette-walked over to her microphone and began the verse. At the bridge, the song erupted into the first of many very loud guitar solos.
St. Vincent performed the majority of the tracks from the new album, as well as a handful of songs from 2011’s (Strange Mercy) and 2009’s (Actor). Although very little was left to improvisation, one moment occurred when during a quiet moment between songs, someone in the back of the theatre yelled out, “Hey, why are we all sitting down?” to which Clark replied, “Good Question.” The audience rose to their feet for the rest of the night. At that point, Clark continued the scripted banter which was more spoken-word pieces than actual conversation with audience members, “We have some things in common. You were born before the 21st century, your favorite word is ‘molecular’, and you once made a hot air balloon.”
The show continued its digital marionette motif during “Birth in Reverse” when Clark and Yasuda synchronized their body movements and footwork in the strobe lights. They produced a “conveyor belt” effect by stiffly walking in opposite directions in the center of the stage during their riffs.
During one of the more subdued moments of the evening, the stage lights came on to reveal Clark draped across the top of the pink steps like a lounge singer as she professed the opening line of “I Prefer Your Love.” At the chorus, she lied down fully for a scene that’s half lounge-singer/broadway performance and then rolled off during the song’s ending.
“Phoenix, Arizona!” resumed the storybook banter, “Your nickname was ‘hale-bopp.’ Sometimes you look at your hands and think, ‘these aren’t my hands!’ You started a fire with a magnifying glass and stomped it out when you realized you’re afraid of fire,” which served as a cue for “Pieta” to begin. Although the show was meticulously planned down to even the band members’ arm movements, there were a few curve balls. An inebriated fan took the stage and danced along as Clark sang the first verse to “Prince Johnny” from the top of the platform. Stagehands rushed to usher him off into the wings as Clark seemed to smirk.
After playing for an hour and twenty minutes, the band stepped off for a long break and a costume change. As the lights came back on, Clark was alone on stage at the top of the platform, dressed in a black skirt and midriff. “This is just the sculpture part of the show,” she joked as she waited for something unknown to the audience before starting a soft and spellbinding version of “Strange Mercy.” Afterwards, the band rejoined her and she walked around the stage to introduce the members while maintaining the marionette character. The night ended with a very dynamic version of “Your Lips are Red.”
The show was literary, calculated and really loud. There is definitely a coherent artistic vision from start to end, down to even the band’s movements on stage and the light show was unique in producing a digitized effect, which played perfectly into the digitized, emotionally distant and mysterious subject matter of the songs and Clark’s persona as St. Vincent. It’s a digital rock show set to a marionette play about the mechanization of modern life.
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