Looking out at the audience during Sarah Jaffe’s (pronounced like “Jiffy” not “gaffe”) performance at the Doug Fir is like being caught in a photograph of the stars – hushed and time lapsed.
After Jaffe’s second lullaby-volume song from her new album Suburban Nature, she leans close to the microphone and whispers, “I need you guys to be quiet, okay?” To which one enthused audience member screams back at her, pulverizing the silence, “Woooooo! I’m so excited to finally see you! You’re awesome! Can I get your number?”
Politely declining the request, she informs us that she is going to get loud. “Come closer, let’s support each other. It’s good to see you. Now, I’ve got a perfectly loud song for you, ‘cause you’re so loud.” The next song is more delicate than the first ones as she croons about dangerous love, lies, and forgiveness, squeaking periodically through a pillow of breath (think Laura Gibson, Samantha Crain breathy, country-style crooning) a series of microscopic "ooh"s.
Jaffe’s cheeky comments about her silent brand of sound indicate a compelling element in her lyrics – they are smart and sentimental but, most importantly, tempered by self-implication and vulnerability: “…If I’m lost with God, I’m lost with you … I wish I was more delicate … I’m a giver/forgiver/pretender…” This aspect of her music is especially intriguing if you’ve seen some of her earlier videos – a young Jaffe (when most of her songs were written) with confidence and sass, lounging with a guitar musing about how she’s just “always loved to play music.” Her progress in her current career status (touring with superstars Norah Jones and Lou Barlow) seems to have conversely imbued her with a humble streak and an impressive dose of fine-tuning. Jaffe is one to see live for the full effect.
I’m almost certain the stunned Sarah Jaffe crowd promptly departed when national slacker-rock hero Lou Barlow took the stage. The floor filled up with the kind of crowd I love to see at shows - hecklers and smart-asses who mask their intellect with slacker swag: cheap canned beer and Dinosaur Jr. tee-shirts. The rapport between Barlow and his fans was entertaining – like old buddies from college, who instead of becoming bitter at things like failed relationships and the aging process, they laugh.
After Barlow was pressed by the audience to sing “The Ballad of Daykitty,” a sentimental joke-track from his 2005 album, Emoh; he said, “I feel like I put a dart through my whole set right there,” later explaining that, “This tour is all about me – whatever makes me feel good. I’ll play the hits later. I’m gonna play acoustic guitar, then electric guitar, then bass, then the ukulele.”
And so it was. After a few acoustic songs from his album Goodnight Unknown, Barlow’s band, The Missingmen (Tom Watson and Raul Morales) came out to amp things up on guitar and drums. The atmosphere was loose and happy -- a severe contrast to the mellow Sarah Jaffe scene just moments before; but in the end I was glad to have my mind changed to a more positive opinion of two musicians whose true power is only released at the appropriate time – during a live performance.
