While the rest of the country is sweltering under record heat, we in Portland have been subjected to relentless gloom and heavy clouds that have overstayed their welcome. It is on one such dreary evening that a trio of bands assembled to play folk songs at the Woods. Prairie Empire, the first band of the evening, begins with quiet grace. Vocalist Brittain Ashford clutches her autoharp tightly to her chest, strumming strong notes out of the instrument as she sings. Before I continue, it must be noted that Brittain and I are friends, and I’ve met her band mates several times.
Brittain's bold, sultry voice defies her slight frame, taking up all available room on the stage. The band also includes a cello, a violin, and an upright piano, as well as light percussion provided by drummer Bob Reynolds. The subtlety of these instruments adds to the stark loveliness of their performance, as does the band members' delicate harmonizing with one another. There is rich texture to each of their songs, capped by Brittain's warbling vocal delivery. She rolls the lyrics around in her mouth like tiny marbles before dropping them into the microphone. Each song tells a story of longing, and the band members wear somber expressions as they perform. Except drummer Bob, of course, who contorts his face into wild shapes that coincide with the collision of drumstick to drum. The undertones of these strained love songs are enhanced by a venue that once served as a funeral home.
As their set draws to a close, the band plays "I Wanna Know," the peppiest and most hopeful song in their catalog. It's much more cheerful than its predecessors, and its energy influences Brittain to travel into the audience and finish the song alongside her audience. The band finishes on a short instrumental jam, and departs the stage amid many cheers.
Continuing the evening's theme of heartfelt longing is the Cabin Project. Their songs are twangy and hold fast to folk's rural roots. "I never liked me much," goes the band's first such song. Once it ends, the members rotate to new stations. Singer Katie Sawicki shifts from her microphone to the onstage piano, and her band mates follow suit in what resembles the Mad Hatter's tea party. The members show mastery of a multitude of instruments, and are comfortable at each station. Midway through their set, on a song called "Alaska," all members but Sawicki depart the stage. Alone on her tiny island, she plays the piano and croons about lobbying in Salem. I wish she hadn’t told us the theme of the song, because it's much lovelier without the explanation in mind. The performance continues with more instrument swaps, in increasingly rapid succession. It ends abruptly, though, and the Cabin Project is quickly replaced by the Lower 48.
Tonight's headliners are young, bearing red X marks on their hands that prohibit them from drinking. They are dressed in painstakingly-chosen ensembles that bring to mind art students at freshman orientation. Despite trying too hard in the wardrobe department, the band starts strong with “The End.” This song involves the drummer’s complex feat of playing both drums and trumpet simultaneously, and I am rather impressed. The members request that all amps be cranked way up. Technical difficulties ensue, and the band members putter around onstage for a few minutes until the problems are resolved. The resulting change in volume drowns out the dreamlike vocals and wrenches this show away from its established folk sound.
Sound issues aside, all of the Lower 48 are clearly talented musicians. Audience members begin dragging chairs in from other parts of the venue to get a closer look at the band. As the volume knobs twist further to the right, a full-blown pop band emerges. They whistle jaunty tunes and erase the mood set in place by previous bands, they increase the reverb and pluck pointedly at their guitar strings. There is an unfortunate problem of the band’s guitars frequently dropping out of tune and requiring readjustment. This adds unnecessary clumsiness to the performance and detracts a bit from their obvious musical skills. Still, singer Ben Braden’s voice is sweet and charming on "Miles from Minnesota," and Sarah Parson lends a cartoonish element to her delivery. It’s a cute traveling song with themes of wonder and excitement at the vast expanse of road between the band and their home state. This marks the end of their performance, and the members hop offstage quickly to mingle with the audience.
Each of these bands provides a perfect complement to the oppressive summer grayness occurring outside. Prairie Empire and the Cabin Project let us dwell in it, and the Lower 48 cranked up the noise to draw us out of it.
