There is much power in understatement and unconventional style. Nicholas Dellfs of Death Songs does both beautifully (as do a few other affiliated bands like Castanets, Shaky Hands, and Lonesome Radio Heart). The assumption that mellow albums will yield mellow live performances is not the case with Death Songs; at least not at this show. They stepped it up considerably, rendering solemn and ruminant songs jovial, upbeat, and surprisingly loud. The three-piece outfit consisting of Dellfs on keyboard, guitar, and vocals, Justin Power on drums, and Ali Clarys on backup vocals. All of the pounding on floors, keys, drums, and tambourines kept the crowd’s eyeballs firmly locked on the band, and smiles throughout. A boisterous version of “Ophelia” – a song I previously considered terribly haunting, staggered me (happily). But stomp-along, jangly folk anthems always do. The Shaky Hands' and Death Songs' strength, however, is a brave poetic penchant for self-blame. Listen to "Wounds;" this is possibly the most honest, heartbreaking song about responsibility for deplorable conditions that I've ever heard. I am biased, but this show solidified my notion that Dellfs is a benchmark in a city brimming with brilliant songwriters.
Ravenna Woods performed well, but the lack of (aforementioned) ‘unconventional style’ and understatement was the only thing holding me back from fully appreciating their set. Their arrangements were fairly complex, shifting from aggressive roots-influenced indie rock to quiet, vibrato-vocaled, glockenspiel-acoustic-guitar dazzled, sensitive-man hard-radio-rock songs. The crowd was divided. Half the room was totally disinterested, fighting the noise with their own loud-soft-loud-soft conversations, and the rest gazing dumbfounded at the band. There were, however, a substantial group of wailing hometown (Seattle) fans in the front. The quartet has a wealth of multi-instrumental talent but are stunted, paradoxically, by piling too much on at once. The package is friendly to the non music-snob because the mix of contemporary and roots offers a ‘something for everyone’ feel. They felt, in the end, like the girl at the party who is a little too friendly with a little too many accessories. You want to like her, and you do, from a distance, but you know right away that you’ll never be best friends. Then again, there's hope; with the right influences, people get better with age.
Luz Elena Mendoza, carrying with her one part Mexico, one part California, and two parts Oregon (North and South), sends a crystal clear message with Y La Bamba. These guys do cultural fusion right with a dreamy spectrum of indie rock, folk, old world, waltz, and mariachi. The room was packed with long time fans who expected nothing less than the effortless excellence they’d only ever heard Y La Bamba deliver. This was a sold-out record release party, after all, so expectations were held high by the fans and, subsequently, exceeded by the band. Mendoza stood over the microphone front and center in low-slung, black cotton overall shorts framing swirls of tattoos while a small army of handsome gentlemen surrounded her. Paul Cameron amongst them, whose vocals shone in equal measure alongside Mendoza's. “Good evening, we are Y La Bamba and we are going to play a few songs for you.” How modest. In Y La Bamba language, apparently, a 'few' songs means fifteen enchanting arrangements, including tracks from both Lupon and their new album, Court The Storm. Five songs in they played "Fasting In San Francisco," a pretty number with a sing-along chorus about drunken trees ("All trees are falling down...") that freed the whimsical gypsy in all of us while Mendoza's quivering-cooing voice kept our ears blissfully captive. "Ponce Pilato" and "Viuda Encabrondada" revealed the band's Spanish chops while songs like "Juniper" and "Squawk" swung back towards the indie dream-pop and Americana we proud neo-hillbillies love so much in Portland. For the encore, we were blessed to hear the gorgeous "Crocodile Eyes" from Lupon (sans musical saw, damn!) and the title track from the new album during which Mendoza shed her gentlemen counterparts for a solo that seemed a departure from both folk and Latin influences. Through fiery Mexican chants or chilled-and-sugared indie-rock, the most outstanding quality about Y La Bamba is their ability to dazzle with concentrated, unconventional, self-assured beauty. It's treasures like this that make me never want to leave this cloudy town.
