On the night of Saturday, January 23rd, the Music Hall of Williamsburg filled with an audience gathered to see short performances from musicians Britt Daniel (of Spoon), Justin Vernon (of Bon Iver), St. Vincent, John Shade and comedians Zach Galifianakis, Janeane Garofalo and Wyatt Cenac. The 550 capacity Brooklyn-based venue sold out for a show announced only two days prior, presented by Bowery Presents and BrooklynVegan, 100% of the proceeds being divided between an orphanage in Haiti and the Red Cross in support of relief efforts aiding Haiti in the wake of one of modern history’s most devastating natural disasters.
Hosted by comedians Leo Allen and Bobby Tisdale, in matching lime-green attire, small talk was made briefly before seemingly unknown newcomer John Shade took the stage armed only with an acoustic guitar. Billed as his live debut, Shade looked natural in front of the microphone. While his songs were well played and comfortable, his music left much to be desired. Nothing brought Shade above the crowd of everyday singer-songwriters, his voice often monotone and casual. I patiently awaited the moment when his voice would passionately surge forth and transcend the dull shape within which it remained confined, only to be disappointed that no such climax ever came. The highlights of his set were the few songs that Justin Vernon took stage to supply drums for.
The crowd seemed to fidget with restlessness as John Shade’s performance reached the half-hour milestone, surprising for a show with so many acts that were billed as having only “short sets”. Finally, he exited stage, anticipation growing for the more notorious performers of the night. The hosts returned to the stage only to further frustrate an increasingly impatient crowd with failed punch lines and ineffective jokes. Tisdale seemed to draw more gasps of disgust than laughs when he said it was “a big night for Katrina, tonight”. Struggling and seemingly onstage for no reason other than to kill time, Tisdale and Allen slowly diverged into a segment where the former tap-danced behind a blanket (audio provided by a prerecorded track). Laughs were few and far between, and the guy behind me summed it up best when he drudgingly told his friend, “I feel like we’re at a high school prep rally.”
Eventually, Wyatt Cenac (of The Daily Show with Jon Stewart) took stage for a short 15-minute stand up set. Much to the relief of the crowd, Cenac broke the tension and was well received, delivering non-stop laughter. Contemplating everything from a friend’s bizarre 30th birthday impulse (thinking he’d get to divulge his time machine theories when his friend mentioned a trip Medieval Times, not expecting the themed dinner and show) his mother’s midlife crisis (wacky church hats being the female equivalent of a man’s “penis car”), using the public bus system when living in Los Angeles (explaining that as Native American’s have reservations, thanks to Rosa Parks, black people have buses), and well-justified criticisms of PETA (their campaign’s ridiculous comparison of the animal rights movement to the civil rights movement). Making the most of his quick time-slot, Cenac never hesitated, transitioning seamlessly from one subject to the other, even shoving random one-liners into any available gap, “If I shoot steroids into my balls, will my body shrink?”
It wasn’t long after Cenac departed when the much-anticipated Britt Daniel made his way into the spotlight. Hot on the heels of his band Spoon’s newest album, Transference, released to critical acclaim just last week, Britt entered the Music Hall of Williamsburg following another solo performance shortly before at Sound Fix records. Accompanied by the NYC-based White Rabbits’ Stephen Patterson on drums (whose last album was produced by Daniel), the Spoon front man made an all too brief appearance.
Electric guitar in hand, beginning with a cover of John Lennon’s “Isolation”, Daniel rendered the song in his signature tone, leaving it sounding like a content additive among other material on a Spoon record, as he belted in his rough voice, “We’re afraid of everyone, afraid of the sun.” Quickly moving into material from the new album, Daniel and Patterson settled into a firm groove with “Who Makes Your Money”, Daniel occasionally eyeing Patterson with a sly grin, keying him into the rhythmic transitions of a song that was evidently and expectedly new for him. Concluding his quick jaunt, Daniel finished comfortably with “I Summon You”, off Spoon’s 2005 album, Gimme Fiction. A man of few words, Daniel bid a crisp farewell and left stage as quickly as he’d come, leaving the crowd with an insatiable thirst for more.
Janeane Garofalo was next on the line-up. Delivering a witty set that was half comedic script and half political rant, she was clearly on the side of the audience. Quickly explaining her jumpsuit outfit (“Jumpsuit 2010! Because it’s about time”) and commenting on the “shit sandwich” that we’ve reached one year into the Obama presidency (“Somebody has to say it!”), Garofalo didn’t have to convince anyone she was a veteran at working the microphone, no qualms about speaking what was on her mind. Whether shouting about the Republican party being clearly racist, or plugging everything from anti-depressants, adderall with Red Bull, and Rosetta Stone to Sephora, she made it seem effortless, as though none of her material was prepared before-hand, simply rolling fresh and direct out of her sharp mind. Delivering obligatory Williamsburg-related jokes, to much success, Garofalo bantered about the L train ride from her Manhattan residence: everyone wearing the same glasses and American Apparel outfits, prodding each other about the latest Of Montreal or Grizzly Bear record.
Unafraid to play favorites, Garofalo vocalized clearly that she wanted to be liked by audiences, specifically the largest amount of people possible. She defended herself against accusations of being “cold” for not wanting children by bawling her love of “fat baby foot” and proudly displaying pooped puppy calendars, eliciting tumultuous reactions while remaining socially conscious. “Has anyone turned on a TV in the last 10 years and Law and Order wasn’t on?” she mused while brilliantly surging into a conspiratorial hypothesis that these shows about upstanding hi-tech justice systems and overly-long-hour-working go-out-of-their-way medical professionals were supposed to reinforce our faith in the failed, inadequate American systems.
Next up was the hit comedic sensation Zach Galifianakis, an underground comedian having garnered significant commercial appeal thanks to his film appearance in overnight success, The Hangover. Immediately downplaying his role in the benefit, Galifianakis joked that his friend called him up asking if he wanted to do a fundraiser for Haiti. Bewildered, he responded with "but I already texted my ten cents", eventually bragging about how he was "doing Haiti benefits before the earthquake”.
Galifianakis was clearly the comedian the audience had set the highest expectations for, and he didn't let them down, drawing unbridled laughter even in the moments he seemed most unsure of himself, as though the crowd was drunk off his delivery rather than finding humor in the content of his comedy. Whether cracking jokes about his partner (“My girlfriend looks like Daryl Hannah—I mean, Darrel Hammond”) or jesting about the benefit’s contributions really being in financial support of the Rock’s new movie, The Tooth Fairy. Once again using mandatory material poking fun at the stereotypical hipster neighborhood where the show took place, following a Jets reference, Galifianakis whined in high-pitched snobbish drawl, “I don’t watch football, I’m a trust fund artist”.
Continually quipping about there being too much time left (shouting backstage, “How much longer? Is anybody keeping time back there?!”), trying to fill the space and seemingly lost (only to further amusement and applause from his audience), Galifianakis finally invited a shy 21-year-old girl onstage to interview. Like a socially awkward nerd stuttering clumsily before an intimidating woman, Galifianakis hilariously struggled to ask sensible questions about things such as her place of employment, her hopes and dreams, and with stalker-like diligence inquired as to the street she lived on, what laundromat she used, and the specific subway routes and transfers she takes in her daily routine.
“Jess, I’m trying to get something out of you…besides your tampon”, he confessed to riotous hysterics and mild expressions of entertained disgust, immediately apologizing to her, “I don’t know why I said that. It was terrible.” He almost seemed sincere before asking, “It reminds me of a movie, have you seen it? There Will Be Blood”, explaining how, thanks to his girlfriend, he sees it every month, before admitting, in an uproar of chuckles (however embarrassed they may have been), that it was the most effective that joke had ever been.
The comedy portion of the night having come to a rollicking finale, the next musical guest took the stage. Annie Clark, better known as St. Vincent, walked out to welcome applause. As the crowd patiently quieted, she silently tuned her guitar before a girl shouted, “Show us your bush!” Annie blushed, her face contorting with curious amusement and hesitation, carefully considering just how to respond before she spoke into the microphone, “That’s the weirdest thing anyone has said to me, on-stage or otherwise.” Another brief pause, “It’s appreciated”, before finishing her set up.
Joking that she originally wanted to do an entire set of ten Pearl Jam covers, Clark opened with her version of Nico’s “These Days”. Graceful finger picking on a clean electric guitar tone drowning in reverb, painting a lush dreamscape as she crooned from beneath bright red lips, “Please don’t confront me with my failures, I had not forgotten them.” Audience enraptured, Clark continues into another cover song, her rendition of “Mistaken for Strangers” by the National. Declaring her uncertainty about being on twitter, she explains that someone tweeted her prior to the show, promising an “epic bottle of wine” should she play this next song, only to look around hopefully and find nobody confessing to the commitment. Dejected, Clark played the song anyway, finally surrendering to her own material. Joined by Justin Vernon, he contributed his celebrated falsetto to the wordless melody of the chorus on “The Party”, from St. Vincent’s latest release, Actor.
After her set ended, the crowd seemed to tighten, people shifting their way forward, waiting in suspense for the arrival of the only remaining act, anxiously ready for him to take center stage after his pair of supporting cameos. Justin Vernon, mastermind of talking point Bon Iver, took the stage to excited commotion, long-sleeved plaid-shirt like a lumberjack, thick beard to match, with a bird’s nest of hair looking like he rolled straight from his bed onto stage. Diving into a self-disclosed “old song”, Vernon begins his set with “Hazelton”, ultimately pleading for the audience to lend him their voices, repeating the words, “You reckon then you run”. Following up with his interpretation of John Prine’s “Sabu Visits the Twin Cities Alone”, Vernon received thunderous support when describing his roots in Wisconsin as his reason for playing the song, apparently having many Midwestern compatriots in the audience. Vernon affectionately gestured toward the crowd as he sang, “They were low on morale, but they were high on you.”
Introducing Brad Cook (of Megafaun) to the stage, Vernon explained their best friendship. Intent on verifying that status he claimed, “We slept in a bed together on the west side last night…didn’t even touch bums.” Cook fires up a synthesizer rigged through an Apple laptop as Vernon dives into “Flume”, the opening track of Bon Iver’s For Emma, Forever Ago. The synthesizer ultimately fell short, cutting in and out delivering an inconsistent ambient backdrop. No matter, as Vernon’s ethereal falsetto pierced beyond any technical difficulty, charming every ear available. Eventually plummeting into an extended bridge of the song, Vernon collapsed to the pedals at his feet. Bathed in a stark red light, he resembled some wild-haired mad scientist as he sampled and looped disparate noises and feedback before rising again to the mic, properly finishing the song.
After finishing his set with another cover, Mahalia Jackson’s “Satisfied Mind”, Vernon revealed that a surprise guest would be performing next as he introduced Shara Worden of My Brightest Diamond. Joined by bass saxophone player Colin Stetson (touring member of the Arcade Fire and contributor to dozens of artists) they perform a song Worden explains had just been recorded that morning for Stetson’s new solo album. Singing an old blues tune by Blind Willie Johnson, with nothing but the atmospheric saxophone work of Stetson coloring the scene, Worden gave the most animated and emotional performance of the evening. Flailing her hands and quivering away from the microphone, provoking fierce acclamation, she soulfully channeled, “Lord, if I just can’t keep from crying sometimes. When my heart’s full of sorrow and my eyes are filled with tears.” Picking up her electric guitar, now embarking solo, Worden exceeded her first heartfelt delivery, playing Prince’s “How Come U Don’t Call Me Anymore?” Earning even more fervent applause, catcall’s bouncing of the walls, she politely exited the stage, calm and collected after eloquently baring her soul.
The stage is immediately filled with a super-group of talent. Justin Vernon and Annie Clark resumed positions in front of microphones, guitar in hands, joined once more by Brad Cook (this time on bass) and a newcomer on drums. Vernon explained that they just put this band together, calling themselves “Songer Singwriter”. Beginning with Neil Young’s “Harvest Moon”, Clark and Vernon alternated verses, coming together to sing in unison on the chorus, “Because I’m still in love with you on this harvest moon.” Clark stepped up to take on the guitar solo, charismatically playing the lead in her same signature reverb tone. On the following song, Cook swapped bass for guitar with Clark, and stepped up to the microphone to sing Tom Petty’s “A Face In The Crowd”. This time Vernon took the lead, sailing away with a mildly distorted guitar solo, layers of echo trailing behind.
“Songer Singwriter” then ventured into “Jolene” by Dolly Parton, Clark taking up the majority role of vocals, but with Vernon often doubling up in a deep country baritone. The four-piece eventually led the song into an epic instrumental jam, journeying louder and louder as Clark jerks spastically, her hands slapping her guitar, evoking shrieking howls from the myriad of effects pedals it’s ran through as the song violently crescendos. Concluding their obviously light-hearted set with Annie Lennox’s “Why”, Vernon taunts the audience on the chorus, “You can sing that too!” Prompting “Louder! Louder!” the crowd ultimately resigns with a timid response, the indistinct murmur not to be confused with a lack of enjoyment. The ecstatic pleasure is resounding when the four exit the stage, bidding farewell to a once-in-a-lifetime night of talented performers coming together for reasons much greater than any individual self, and giving a performance so unique and irreplaceable that not a soul in attendance could deny being reminded how fantastic it is to live in New York City.
