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Blind Pig- Ann Arbor, MI 6/24/01
You’ve seen your share of slasher flicks I’m sure; some bad, some good. The good ones always leave you on edge waiting for that horny co-ed or drunken cocksmith of a frat boy to be slashed to ribbons. The scariest part of those films is not the final bloody act itself, but the time it takes for the blade to enter new flesh . This can best describe watching folk-rocker Kristin Hersh perform live.
When she first arrived on stage, Hersh was all charm. Speaking in a sweet folksy manner she stated that, “apparently I say fuck a lot in my songs, sorry”. This then led to a charming little rant on some of the critical responses her latest solo effort, Sunny Border Blue has met with. “I think the guy from People Magazine was crying when he wrote his review”, she commented. Hersh concluded her intro, warning that those of us looking to be cheered up this evening were going to be severely disappointed. We all laughed. Then her face lowered to the floor as she strummed her first chord. It was too late to turn back.
When Hersh faced us to sing she had transformed. Her big, expressive eyes had gone blank, dead. She was in a dark place and all you could do was follow her down lest you be left behind in some great unknown. The set opened with the first track off of Sunny Border Blue, Dirty Answer. In the 3 minute tale of love betrayed the transformation of Hersh’s voice from a soothing coo to an angry banshee howl was so rapid I found myself chilled to the bone. 37 Hours (another track off of Blue) followed and with that a break, where the charming self-deprecating Kristin returned to spin another tale. Normally, when a singer pauses to talk to the audience, it’s like a 12 year old boy attempting to ask the prettiest girl in school out to ice cream (listen to the ramblings of Fiona Apple or Ani DiFranco for further proof). Many a gifted musician has stumbled on this. Fortunately, Hersh has a gift for both songwriting and story telling. This is good since her lyrics tend to take a heavy toll on you emotionally. Plus as we all know, good horror needs moments of light to reinforce the darkness to come.
The rest of the 80 minute set spanned the spectrum of Hersh’s career: from her solo works, to her days with the Throwing Muses and a few Appalachian tunes ( Down in the Hallowed Garden and Banks of the Ohio to be exact) thrown in for good measure. The encore was a sparse three song selection featuring a Muses tune (per audience request) and two tracks off her solo debut: Your Ghost and A Loon. A decent capper to the evening. Yet after nearly an hour and a half of dark introspection, I found myself begging for more. Is this the sign of a true masochist or a Kristin Hersh fan? I’m not sure myself, so let’s vote for both.
Playing a one-person acoustic set is as intimate as you can get. It’s you, your audience and the danger of fulfilling every pretentious coffee house stereotype imagined. When you rise to the occasion, you’re brilliant. When you fail you might as well be a second collection of Jewel’s poetry collecting dust in the bargain shelf at Borders. Hersh has a unique gift for live performance. A gift that centers from a troubled past (which, unlike every other published article in the free world about her, I won’t dive into) and a frenzied career that despite its 18 year run remains touched only by a fringe following. A tragedy given the fact she brings to her audience more soul and heart than any other artist I’ve seen on stage, period. Tori can keep her fairies, I’ll take Kristin’s demons any day.
*Check for upcoming Kristin Hersh shows @ www.throwingmusic.com
----Blaine
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