Tonight, everything seems different around town, people are rushing faster than usual, cars are being more aggressive on the tarmac; it does not take long to realise that everything seems offbeat and peculiar.
All the superstitious around here would probably explain this phenomenon by pinning it on the fact that we are after all Friday the 13th, the less serious ones would possibly explain this odd feeling to the four years hiatus The Decemberists are finally ending; or maybe it is just because of the horrible cold weather that has taken over Glasgow relentlessly.
Even if the band has been lurking around for more than a decade, no new material has surfaced for the past four years, they seem to like to disappear and reappear whenever they desire, like a musical good conscience.
As the lights go off, it is almost an obligation to start the festivities with ‘The Singer Addresses The Audience’ so as to jolt the crowd’s memory and break the ice and the hiatus ironically and ironically.
Prompt to their customary well-suited image and nonchalant poise the band takes on the stage spreading out on its full length.
From backing vocals to musicians, seven people march on stage emerging as a big musical family only here to try and carve people’s minds with fresh new memories.
The elegant fellows pursue their way into one of the most superstitious nights of the year with tracks like ‘Down By The Water’, ‘The Island’ and even ‘Los Angeles, I’m Yours’; turning the whole building into a folky church with Colin Meloy as its minister sermonning his way through memory lane with gripping songs from Picaresque (‘Eli, The Barrow Boy’), The King is Dead (‘Calamity Song’) and even The Hazards of Love (‘The Rake’s Song’).
Even if time has taken its toll over the band, it seems that they gained in musical maturity; Meloy’s voice is still as charismatic and enigmatic as ever, making every track of the night tiny timeless harmonious vessels.
Tonight’s performance is all about recreating connections between a band and its crowd and an audience and its memories and if fireworks were allowed to happen inside it would have been the perfect bouquet final.
Words: Jeremy Veyret
Photos: Ingrid Mur
