|
07/21/09 Colchester Arts Centre
07/23/09 Andrews Lane, Dublin 07/25/09 Summerfest, Norway 08/06/09 Williamsburg, Brooklyn, NY 08/09/09 Off Festival, Poland 08/11/09 Stretensky, Moscow 08/14/09 La Route, St Malo France |
Have you ever been to church and felt like the terrible seating is contrived to be as much a part of the lesson as the sermon itself? Like pain and suffering for the greater good, I hoped tonight's performance would also reward for perseverance and vigilance.
The altar set, underneath a church bathed in soft primary coloured light, an interesting setting for Mark Kozelek to bare his soul. He starts up his mournful plucking and attempts to move the congregation to the saddest of places.
As the tones of the most desolate landscapes bounced off the church walls, I wondered what he was making of it all, playing well yet seeming uneasy and not quite ready to catch fire. It didn't take long for him to make his feelings known, 'I'm going backstage to get my set-list, don't start talking and f**k up the vibe' he quips just three songs in. I can't imagine any sermon being interrupted like this before, cussing aside I never knew there was a backstage in a place like this. His humour is dry and well received, but its matter of fact in a way that shows he clearly isn't happy - demanding awkwardly for the delicately arranged 'house lights' to be turned off.
'Gloomchester, Greychester...' he mutters.
Lights down low, he admits he feels less the 'performing freak' and can peddle his act and perform with dignity in the darkness. Seemingly, it allows him to channel his sadness, and when he does, his brilliance is uncovered, never have I heard such range in monotone delivery like this. There's beauty amongst bluntness in his lyrics.
Its dark outside, a few classics are reeled out and Kozelek, thriving and exuding passion has made the place his own.
'How are you doing out there?', Now clearly enjoying himself, cracking witty anecdotes. He decides to reward the faithful below with some previously unperformed relics of the past, the indignity of sharing a bathroom queue with these people now forgotten in his eagerness. He steadily begins to indulge more and more, Red House Painter's classic 'Michael' sets up a couple of more arduous tracks seemingly caught in a spiral of excursions down endless Spanish guitar avenues. The hard angle of the chairs provide the faithful with a poking reminder, a sense of duty to suffer, and tonight it is all worth it.
The altar set, underneath a church bathed in soft primary coloured light, an interesting setting for Mark Kozelek to bare his soul. He starts up his mournful plucking and attempts to move the congregation to the saddest of places.
As the tones of the most desolate landscapes bounced off the church walls, I wondered what he was making of it all, playing well yet seeming uneasy and not quite ready to catch fire. It didn't take long for him to make his feelings known, 'I'm going backstage to get my set-list, don't start talking and f**k up the vibe' he quips just three songs in. I can't imagine any sermon being interrupted like this before, cussing aside I never knew there was a backstage in a place like this. His humour is dry and well received, but its matter of fact in a way that shows he clearly isn't happy - demanding awkwardly for the delicately arranged 'house lights' to be turned off.
'Gloomchester, Greychester...' he mutters.
Lights down low, he admits he feels less the 'performing freak' and can peddle his act and perform with dignity in the darkness. Seemingly, it allows him to channel his sadness, and when he does, his brilliance is uncovered, never have I heard such range in monotone delivery like this. There's beauty amongst bluntness in his lyrics.
Its dark outside, a few classics are reeled out and Kozelek, thriving and exuding passion has made the place his own.
'How are you doing out there?', Now clearly enjoying himself, cracking witty anecdotes. He decides to reward the faithful below with some previously unperformed relics of the past, the indignity of sharing a bathroom queue with these people now forgotten in his eagerness. He steadily begins to indulge more and more, Red House Painter's classic 'Michael' sets up a couple of more arduous tracks seemingly caught in a spiral of excursions down endless Spanish guitar avenues. The hard angle of the chairs provide the faithful with a poking reminder, a sense of duty to suffer, and tonight it is all worth it.
07/21/2009 17:31:00 ♥ duncan (
) ♥ markkozelek.com ♥ myspace.com/kozelekd ♥ sunkilmoon.com
Recent Comments