Perhaps, I tell myself, if I keep falling in love with Tiny Vipers, the rest of the world will follow suit. I tried again Wednesday night. Maybe next time.
The stated capacity for Mississippi Studios is 250+. I say this because if my headcount of less than 30 was correct, then there was room for another 220 people or so. But that’s cool. It’s not like we’re talking about Kiss or U2 here. This kind of music doesn’t need big crowds. But if you weren’t one of the two dozen or so people sitting around on the floor at Mississippi Studios with a loved one and a tall boy of PBR, I hope whatever it is you were doing instead was beautiful. Because this was.
Cars & Trains, the electronic music project of Tom Filepp, opened the evening with an eclectic, surprisingly organic set. Building progressively complex loops with a small array of instruments, Filepp put together haunting folk songs that effortlessly danced around his electronic beats. Endless repetitions of deceptively simple lyrics – “Imagine my surprise/When my brothers all had died” – over a crescendo of harmonious sounds resulted in amazingly heartfelt tunes. Unique for electronic music, it was as much a joy to watch him create his music as it was to listen to it.
Following the excellent Cars & Trains set came Seattle’s Rafael Anton Irisarri. Working primarily with a laptop and a guitar, Irisarri played a brief set of a single, wonderfully evocative ambient composition. For a time, it required very little imagination to conjure up the image of a lazy stream, which was only enhanced by the very casual and relaxed nature of the setting, with almost everybody in attendance sitting in rapt attention on the floor. And in fact, a little imagination was almost necessary. Irisarri’s compositions are wonderful, but his stage presence is non-existent. He spent much of his set simply staring into the screen of his laptop as he tinkered with frequencies. This was an occasion -- rare in my opinion -- where a projection screen could have been put to good use, but as it was the experience could be enhanced simply by closing one’s eyes.
After a considerable interval came the headliner, Tiny Vipers. This was my second time seeing Tiny Vipers -- the stage name of Jesy Fortino -- having previously covered an intimate performance at the Aladdin Theatre last summer. I raved about that show, and had high expectations for this one. Though Fortino’s set was considerably shorter this time around, my expectations were surpassed in every other sense. By the time she sat down at the microphone, the crowd had maybe doubled in size. Still small, but enough people that chairs had been produced from somewhere to provide for more comfortable seating options, though many opted to remain on the floor. For all the intimacy that the Aladdin can rightfully boast of, the informality of this arrangement easily bested it. The room was perfectly silent while Fortino played, and the atmosphere seemed more a gathering of friends than an actual concert. Fortino, echoed that vibe, seeming perfectly unselfconscious and at ease throughout her performance. Her set was much too short, but so enchanting in spite of its brevity that it didn’t matter. This performance emphasized quality over quantity, and as always, Fortino packed so much spirit and emotion into her quietly beautiful music that it was impossible afterward to summon anything but contentedness. To judge from the response she received, I’d hazard a guess that another couple dozen people fell in love, again or for the very first time, with Tiny Vipers on Wednesday night. Perhaps next time there will be a couple dozen more.
