It’s simple: the proper venue plays a major factor in the success of a show. There are so many lifeless, soulless arenas that it really takes an amazing performer to transcend such horrible housing. Leonard Cohen did it recently for me at some place in Seattle that looked like a bunker. Bob Dylan, for example, seems wise in his choices, playing in theatres and old-timey minor league ball parks.
But sometimes even a great venue can be the wrong choice. I have friends who saw Sigúr Rós, one of my favorite bands, on early tours at great clubs, but could you imagine standing through a Sigúr Rós show? (I did, last year at 1am at Bonnaroo and it was a tough sell). One of the most thoughtful things I’d ever witnessed at a concert was Sam Beam asking the audience to sit for his solo performance at a gymnasium at Messiah College.
The Wonder Ballroom, one of my preferred venues in town, was not the right place for Mark Kozelek and Sun Kil Moon. His music is the dreamy sort to get lost in, but it’s hard to get lost in mid-tempo dirges while you’re standing. Also, the room, barely one third full, felt cavernous in its emptiness. More people seemed to show up for (and talk through) opener Matt Costa’s set than stick around for Sun Kil Moon. For me, the best performances take you out of the audience and draw you onto the stage, creating a sort of symbiosis between musician and audience. But for this show, I felt more as if I was watching a projection. A wall existed between the audience and musician.
The four piece band opened with “Glenn Tipton” from Sun Kil Moon’s 2003 effort Ghosts of the Great Highway.This beautiful song compares a boxing match between Cassius Clay and Sonny Liston to a debate over guitarists Glenn Tipton and K.K. Downing. As Phil Carney played some beautiful guitar, Kozelek also added lyrics about his father and the death of a friend. The band then moved onto “Make Like Paper” and “Last Tide.” At this point, I noticed the audience beginning to shift as the tempo of these songs matched the first.
Before beginning show stand-out “Heron Blue,” someone told Kozelek that they couldn’t hear his vocals. “You can’t hear my vocals because you’re talking through all the songs,” he replied. He urged the audience to quiet down and then treated us to beautiful versions of “Heron” and “Moorestown.” The magic was only temporary as the chatter began again during “Tonight in Bilbao,” but seemed to settle down for the last two songs in the set “Tonight the Sky” and “Duk Koo Kim.”
As the band took the stage for the encore, Kozelek mumbled to Carney something about not needing him and that he was “going to make some fucking magic.” Carney playfully gave him the finger and Kozelek opened into a stunning version of “Blue Orchids.” The band then returned for “Unlit Hallway” and “Truckers Atlas.” For a night of so much beauty, I probably would have appreciated it more if Sun Kil Moon had played somewhere else like the Aladdin.
by David Harris
