It began last summer. Visiting my hometown of Portland, Oregon, I chanced upon a live folk performance one sunny, warm, delicious day. I fell and I fell hard. Blind Pilot quickly became a staple in my life. “Buried a Bone” managed to sneak its way onto every playlist I created. Obsessive? Perhaps. Permissible? Definitely.
In the dimly lit atmosphere of the Mercury Lounge, Blind Pilot was hardly recognizable. As the opening notes resounded, I began to question my memory. Was this detached band the same one I had seen last summer? As my spirits sank, the drums suddenly kicked in, a xylophone rang out, and a trumpet blared. My doubts vanished instantly. The lackluster beginning only emphasized the entrance of a multitude of instruments.
And indeed it was a multitude. Innumerable instruments decorated the stage. The female vocalist leapt from one instrument to another, first grabbing the banjo before picking up the ukulele and then the dulcimer before discarding strings altogther for the pounding strength of her drumsticks. Meanwhile the trumpet player swung between horn and keyboard while the bassist coolly plucked his standing bass. On the other side of the stage a highly tattooed gentleman tinkled the keys of the xylophone and up front, next to the female vocalist, stood the doe-eyed, open-faced lead singer, Israel Nebeker, on guitar.
Heart-felt lyrics ripped at the audience. Nebeker’s voice resonated as he passionately, and with a shy smile, shrugged his shoulders to his ears and stretched to his toes. The overwhelming power of his vocals was epitomized in the opening of “The Bitter End.” Nebecker stood, solitary in the stage light, surrounded by a crowd, yet alone. His earnest, haunted voice sang, “If ever you should die, I know I’ll shave my head,” eliciting from the audience a gut wrenching sense of loss.
Contrasting the emotionally draining songs were the high energy, drum-heavy tunes of “Buried a Bone” and “One Red Thread.” The latter drove the crowd into a frenzy with clashing cymbals and a twanging banjo that silenced suddenly when the trumpet released one long, unwavering note, which pulled the audience along in its wake.
