While the inanimate \"David Bowie Is\" exhibit remained on display at the Museum of Contemporary Art on Tuesday, a living embodiment of much of what the Thin White Duke symbolized was busy thrilling a near-capacity crowd a few blocks away at the Chicago Theatre. St. Vincent (real name Annie Clark) championed unfettered expressionism and individuality during a 90-minute set in which her music went through chameleon-like changes. <\/p>\n
Akin to Bowie, St. Vincent values anxiety-ridden songs that blend various disciplines and resist easy description. She also embraces shape-shifting appearances, often altering her hair and fashion as she continues to transform from a once-guarded performer into a confident, fearless whirlwind. Near the end of the concert, Clark abandoned her three-piece band, crawled off the stage, waded into the audience and collided with fans en route to the rear of the venue. She then jumped on a man's shoulders, returned to the stage on his back, tumbled around, executed a headstand and finally collapsed. <\/p>\n
The exhilarating sequence radiated control and chaos, apparent contradictions that have come to define St. Vincent's limits-pushing originality. Few contemporaries experienced a stronger breakout stretch of late than the New York-based singer, who used her 2012 collaborative record and subsequent tour with David Byrne as creative springboards. During the past ten months, St. Vincent played with the surviving members of Nirvana, released an acclaimed album (the self-titled \"St. Vincent\") and dominated this summer's Pitchfork Festival. If the increasingly commanding sound of her guitar serves as any indication, the momentum won't fade anytime soon. <\/p>\n
\"Hello freaks,\" said St. Vincent, greeting the crowd after finishing an extended trumpet blast of a six-string solo steeped in sustain and distortion. \"I think we have a few things in common,\" she announced, launching into one of several eclectic monologues about perception and reality. Her unorthodox persona mirrored the outre futurism of her choreographed theatricality and animatronic movements. Augmented by restless fare such as the percolating \"Digital Witness,\" vicious \"Huey Newton\" and spring-loaded \"Birth In Reverse,\" the visuals provided smart, caustic commentary on modern life. <\/p>\n
St. Vincent further conveyed paranoia, violence, coldness and isolation via unsettling lyrics delivered via innocuous, upper-range singing. Disparities between the disruptive narratives, lush melodies, nervous instrumental structures and delicate vocals suggested turmoil lurking just beneath the surfaces and that, like the rabid-hearted lover she couldn't make heel on \"Bring Me Your Loves,\" it refused to be contained. <\/p>\n
Shuffling about in a black dress and high heels, the vocalist savored moments when fissures appeared, alternating between shredding notes and intruding with spastic runs on her guitar. \"The truth is ugly \/ Well, I feel ugly too,\" she sang amid the turbulence, her flair for the dramatic balanced by casual poise and blunt honesty befitting an artist for whom nothing seems out of reach. <\/p>\n
ctc-arts@tribpub.com<\/a> <\/p>\n Twitter @chitribent <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Originally posted here: <\/p>\n St. Vincent shredded all, including convention<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" While the inanimate \"David Bowie Is\" exhibit remained on display at the Museum of Contemporary Art on Tuesday, a living embodiment of much of what the Thin White Duke symbolized was busy thrilling a near-capacity crowd a few blocks away at the Chicago Theatre. St Continue reading