When a musician wants to "be her own band," technology and common sense afford her a few more options than strapping on cymbals, a harmonica, bass drum, etc. and marching around the stage. The most obvious solution would be to write songs that can be performed using only one instrument at a time, but not everyone would be satisfied with such a restriction. Others, like Alaska in Winter, play prerecorded backing tracks and perform the lead parts live, perhaps with embellishments such as having a virtual band (like AIW's mustachioed, video-projected alter egos). Finally, there is the cost-effective but practice intensive-solution chosen by performers like Theresa Andersson, who use an array of pedals and lightning-fast instrument changes to electronically loop themselves into a quasi-orchestra.
Andersson, barefoot on a white shag rug, surrounded herself with panels of pedals, drums, dulcimer, classical guitar, turntable (equipped with Smokey Johnson's "It Ain't My Fault"), and a custom dual-mic stand that also held her violin. In woolen leg warmers, wrist warmers, tights, a skirt, and with a frequent smile, Andersson made the performance look easy, if incredibly practiced and choreographed. She danced around joyously, ending some songs with yoga-inspired poses stretching out to the ceiling. She worked the pedals and twisted dials with her bare feet, recorded voice into one mic and sang into the other, and demonstrated mastery of all her instruments in the time span of a single song.
Andersson's songs were beautifully arranged and delightfully catchy---the product of a Swedish-born singer-songwriter infused with New Orleans rhythm and soul. A particular highlight was the single song she performed in Swedish, which showcased Andersson's sometimes playful, but well-trained, voice. Nevertheless, I found myself questioning more and more whether the incredible looping performance enhanced or detracted from the experience. Somewhat distractingly, I was caught up in the question of whether electronic looping is a musical skill or something more akin to a parlor trick?
The crowd seemed to love it; they were buzzing about Andersson before the set and were glowing afterwards. I loved the songs too, but felt (somewhat guiltily) like they were presented to me as a physical, rather than musical, accomplishment. To feel something in the moment and be carried away---whether it's driving a car, reading a book or anything else---you can't be constantly wondering at how it's put together, or whether it will unravel. It's fun to lift up the hood or diagram the sentences afterward, but that requires a step back that I don't particularly want to take in a live show. So while I'll definitely seek out Andersson's music in the future, I think I'll just put in the CD, close my eyes, and enjoy it.
