Like overgrown kindergartners, we sit cross-legged on the Wonder Ballroom’s wood floor. True to the metaphor, I sip straight orange juice from a plastic cup. I'm nursing the tail-end of a cold, and with distinctly non-kindergarten manners, am trying not to breathe on my fellow concertgoers. At the front of the room, on a stage that seems comically high from this vantage point, Marisa Anderson is noodling out lengthy, bluesy tunes on her guitar. She’s seated on a folding chair in the few square inches of performance area that aren't covered in equipment from the forthcoming bands, drawing forceful and confident sounds from her instrument. Though there is a microphone in front of her, this first song has gone on for several minutes without a word. I begin to wonder if her performance will have any singing at all.
While Anderson plays, more and more audience members trickle into the area nearest the stage. Adhering to hive mentality, each person finds a suitable spot and quickly plants his or her backside on the floor. This phenomenon is completely new to me, but I'm intrigued to see how long it lasts. Anderson continues playing without any lyrics to hang on the notes. She’s quite a talented musician, but is only attracting the attention of the solo patrons who have no one to talk to. People in groups and pairs chatter idly with one another, with no major shifts to draw their interest. Anderson pauses to tune her strings, and takes the time to aptly identify her genre as "solo improv guitar." The meandering song that follows, only the fourth in this set, is her last.
During the transition, the audience remains seated as the venue's population grows. People wiggle and contort themselves to fill available space, but no one opts to stand. We watch attentively as an enormous standing bass is carried out, and a violin is hung on the center mic stand. Led to Sea's Alex Guy appears onstage and begins playing hauntingly beautiful sounds on the violin. She discards the bow and begins plucking the strings with her fingers as a loop of the original music plays back. Switching back to the bow, the plucking sounds are now the looping track. She sings a wordless melody on top of these initial notes, and is quietly joined by two bandmates to begin the set.
On the band’s waltz-like first full song, "Your Ghost," Guy's voice is rich and sweet. The members of Led to Sea are quite a curiosity with their classical string instruments in lieu of drums or guitars, but a welcome one. There is something reminiscent of past decades in their work, as if they are playing in a 1930s café. All three are compelling to observe as they float warm, dreamlike sounds above our heads. Alex Guy's sultry voice captures us, and the still-seated audience members sway wide-eyed throughout the performance. Vocal harmonies from visiting violinist Paris Hurley add to the loveliness emanating from the stage. The three attack their instruments on "Is This the Last Time," playing as forcefully as such equipment allows. Their final song is a sleepy instrumental one, bringing the performance full-circle before they disappear from sight.
With Led to Sea gone, the audience finally begins to stir. One by one, people stand to stretch their legs, replenish their drinks, and generally move about the room before the headliners emerge. The floor becomes packed shoulder-to-shoulder as patrons come out of the shadows and crowd the stage. Both Thao and Mirah have released multiple albums independently of this recent collaboration, the former via Thao with the Get Down Stay Down, and the latter as a solo artist. I'm interested to learn what this union will bring, and expect greatness. Joined by a drummer and two thirds of Led to Sea, Thao and Mirah take the stage. Thao's guitar playing involves rapid fingerpicking on this first song, with a smidge of country influence reflected in both the music and her cowboy boots. Mirah's voice blends seamlessly with Thao's, adding intricate structure.
By the second song, "How Dare You," I am hooked. This performance is so, so good. Both women have incredible stage presence and are singing with alacrity, putting their whole hearts into the delivery. Thao can really wail on her guitar, and Mirah cracks wry smiles between verses. They pause to tell a story about Mirah flirting her way across the Canadian border in lieu of a passport, even though it forced her to agree, through gritted teeth, with the border agent who classified their all-female band as "she-rock." The band mixes new material, like "Sugar and Plastic," with collaborative versions of their previous work, including a stellar rendition of Mirah's "The Dogs of Buenos Aires." Thao props her guitar on a keyboard stand to strum it sideways, while Mirah has gone over to the drumset to thump on what looks like two inverted pie pans.
Midway through the set, the ladies pause to make an announcement. A Portlander recently won the opportunity to sing with the band at this very event, and to choose the song. She selects Thao with the Get Down Stay Down's "Bag of Hammers," and the result is a rollicking party on the stage. It’s energetic and joyful, and the auction winner is clearly having the greatest moment of her life as she springs into the air while singing the chorus. After some hugs, the band returns to the collaborative catalog, and remains playful and animated throughout the evening. Another of Mirah’s solo songs, "We're Both So Sorry," concludes the set. These two women, along with their backing band, are deliciously excellent together. The duo complements each other so perfectly that it's nearly impossible to discern new songs from those recorded before they joined forces. Introducing their encore, Thao and Mirah up the cute factor by telling us that the band is headed home to bed, as today is Sunday. They close with shared renditions of each other's past material and bid us goodnight.
