Celestial Chemistry: Big Thief at the Wilbur
Artwork by Mateo Rispoli
by Mateo Rispoli
“I keep feeling this shape,” whispers Adrianne Lenker in a mousy yet confident tone, peering into the curve of the sold-out Wilbur Theater; “It’s a half-circle.”
Lenker and her band, Big Thief, had just ripped through a set of tender and ravening tracks; a staggering exhibition of welcoming and spurning pieces, all of which find good company in such esoteric asides. Only two days after releasing Two Hands, the Earthly sibling to May’s U.F.O.F., a celestial carpet ride through the unknown, Big Thief peddles their unprocessed wares through a forest of fresh ears, blossoming in the four-piece’s agrestal textures. Their music sprouts in overgrown fields, replete with waves of folky flora and fauna and the growling storms that water them.
The appropriately barren set reflected the wooded green and orange visual DNA of the tour’s spotlight albums. Mosaic projections of leave shifting colors accented the back curtain in sparse use. The band’s hallmark restraint defers the spotlight to their greater eccentricities.
Adrianne Lenker, Buck Meek, Max Oleartchik, and James Krivchenia are an idiosyncratic bunch: Lenker, bereft of the gold replacement for her missing lateral incisor, acrylics on her middle three nails for picking, dancing with her amp to the beat of the feedback as she turns around; Meek wrapped in a bright red puffer coat, sleeves rolled up as to not detract from his playing or stain them with his onstage glass of wine; Oleartchik, droning and providing low-end mystique with his bass adorning a feather from its headstock; and Krivchenia his oversized tennis-ball-yellow t-shirt melting off of him as his head bounces and sleeves swing in time. Each carried their own captivating persona throughout an acclaim-affirming 18-song set. The only negative falls on the part of the human brain’s inability to focus on all four of them at once.
Lenker, the lead songwriter and vocalist of the troupe, undoubtedly captured the bulk of audience attention. Her frail and fleeting falsetto never rang so powerfully as she outperformed her recorded-self on nearly every track. From the panicking swelling and growl of “Not,” to the poppy stylings of “Mythological Beauty,” to the agonized screams of “Contact” (which I mistook for pick scrapes in my review of U.F.O.F. back in May), Lenker proved herself a singular vocalist, ghostly, serene, and savage in the perfect measure. All the while, she led her guitar through fingerpicked pastures of snot-green foliage and scenes of carnage on six-strings in her noisy improvisations.
Big Thief performing “Not” on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, two nights before their arrival at the Wilbur.
Meek and Lenker both played through earthy vintage Magnatone amplifiers; the equivalent of filtering a guitar through a bed of rocky soil and clay. “Shoulders” in particular, which features a round and buoyant lead riff, sounded particularly at home with this setup. Each was equipped with extensive pedalboards to emulate the spacious production wizardry of U.F.O.F., also allowing for dynamic renditions of beloved tracks. Lenker tossed a fragmented freak-out interlude into the middle of “U.F.O.F.,” opened ''Capacity” with clean-toned chords, and concluded her “Masterpiece” solo with a fingerpicked epilogue. Oleartchik, provided an eerie bass drone behind the morbid “Terminal Paradise,” and a joyous accent to Krivchenia on “Two Hands,” the two often controlling the night’s mood from the shadows; a role Krivenchia understands intimately, with mixing credits on Two Hands.
During a nascent performance of a currently untitled solo song, Lenker slid out of her performance like a halting record player, questioning her own songwriting on stage, remarking “How does this work?” as she sorted out the logistics of the lyrics, pondering how snow could rise to her shoulders, finally relenting “it was all so clear to me up until this moment.” Generally nonplussed, this tender moment in all of its insight and genuineness charmed an already enamored crowd. Lenker had no obligation to lift the ever-present songwriting veil, especially when steeped in an untouchable creative space as she is in now. It was an affectingly human look into the mind a character whose myth continues to grow.
For a band to play an unreleased song as an encore only two days after releasing their second album of the year, their hearts must convene in a place beyond the stage. While Lenker leads with a consuming intensity, the four share tangible chemistry that most bands never achieve. If anything could be taken away from this set, its that Big Thief does not want 2019 to be their moment. They understand the fragility of creative relevance and the responsibility that comes with it.
Buck Meek, unsatisfied with Lenker’s expression of incompleteness, points out the band’s rounded formation, mirrored by the curve of the Wilbur; “together we make a full circle.” A sentiment so saccharine it begged a smile from each of his bandmates. The closeness of Two Hands fully realized, the band threw themselves into the next song without hesitation.