Bon Iver: A Psychosomatic Cold That Makes Us Lonely
Jan 1, 2009
Words by Kyle Smith
Illustration by Casey Weldon
Oh, Bon Iver. You siren song of the Upper Midwest, you modern day "Jethro Tull is a band, not a person" argument, you magnet for woodsy metaphor, and, tonight, symbol of that bitter psychosomatic Chicago cold that makes us lonely. But first: a scene-stealer. Kristian Matsson is a Swedish man with awesome hair who goes by The Tallest Man on Earth. His music is that simple, irresistible combination of a strong performer, an acoustic guitar, and a fair share of emotion.
His 2008 release, _Shallow Grave_, was a same-sounding record of songs that often sounded like Bob Dylan and occasionally sounded even better. And Matsson is a true one-man band: his album features no instruments beside his voice and his guitar. Curiously, he's avoided the dreaded "singer-songwriter" tab, probably because he's Swedish. Anyway, the surprise tonight was the showmanship that accompanied these skeletons-Matsson is expressive, energetic, and excited; his face shows the turns of his stories and the feelings of his characters. Nor is he afraid to hold the guitar vertical and strum it, sporting a shit-eating grin cheek-to-cheek, daring us to enjoy it.
Unfortunately, Bon Iver is Of This Moment and The Tallest Man on Earth is not yet, so the crowd spoke a din that challenged Matsson's voice. Naturally, this churlishness went away once Justin Vernon took the stage in red plaid (how predictable) with a guitarist and 1, 2, 3 drummers-the last performing on a single snare. Percussion would prove to be only one of tonight's surprises.
The songs from _For Emma, Forever Ago_ already feel like such aged classics, and the album itself some impeachable document of a man struggling, that too many deviations tonight might be unsavory. Vernon knows this, and the first song, "Lump Sum," captured that same magic mix of sylvan mechanization, it's opening pulsing from the stage and Vernon's voice swirling in the air above us.
Like all great acts who have only put out one album, Bon Iver's popularity hilariously dwarfs their output. Toward the end of the show, Vernon apologized for the lack of songs left to play, but it was a cover that stole the evening. "This song's by The Outfield," Vernon said; surely it would be the 1985 classic "Your Love." The band played a series of slow drooping arpeggios before Vernon moaned, "Josie's on a vacation for a week..." There's something delightful about an audience laughing at simultaneous recognition.
More delightful, though, is that Bon Iver (rightfully so) doesn't treat "Your Love" as kitsch or irony. How could you? It's unquestionably a song about longing, and rendered, in its original version, with pathos and sadness and sparse instrumentation. Sounds like someone else I know. "I don't want to lose your love tonight"-wasn't that what _For Emma_ was all about? There's a reason one-hit wonders last: they're filled with something that the rest of the band's output was unable to match. I'd take Dead or Alive's "You Spin Me Round (Like A Record)" over a TV on the Radio single anyday.
But then _For Emma, Forever Ago_ is one of those perfect albums that ridicules the one-hit wonder; seamless sequencing, spooky theatrics, and pain in every stanza. Vernon took the stage alone for "Re: Stacks;" I cursed the song and heard several around me do so as well. Getting that close to the heart hurts. And live, Vernon seems to understand what these songs mean to people, playing them close to the well-worn album version.
I feel a need to describe the audience sing-along Vernon rallied for "Wolves," the final song of regulation, where he orchestrated us all to sing "What might have been lost" over and over again, but I was too confused by the entire thing to really want to relive it.
Maybe myself and others ascribe too much of that recluse-in-the-woods bit to Bon Iver than is really needed. Dressing like a lost member of Built to Spill might not help his case, but Vernon's appealing onstage persona and the willing sincerity of his band remind us that this is another guy who, a few years ago, tried to sort out his shit just like the rest of us. That we still listen to it is proof of its excellence; that we celebrate it tonight under heavy snowfall seems to mean something more.
"Bon Iver's Daytrotter Session":http://www.daytrotter.com/article/1359/bon-iver
