You Fall In

The band Photographers was, for me, a period of impatient waiting before Breathe Owl Breathe walked on stage. For all that, it's impossible to say something about this show without saying anything about the Photographers as the opener.

With four bodies on stage, we only saw the faces of two, Maren Celeste and John Hanson. She's the only one facing the audience head-on, but her microphone covered her face and her nervous hands told more of a story than the phrases falling from her mouth. Her vowels sat high-tongued in her mouth; her wobbly vibrato blended each word into the next. We saw Hanson too, a sideways profile facing Maren Celeste; a sapling voice lost in the electronic sounds of the band. Hidden behind them, a girl tapped out continuous vibraphone patterns, and a man worked his way around what looked like it was some kind of electric piano. Everything was electronically driven, including the vocals, creating a sound-scape of effects and instruments. Very frustratingly, this made any natural sounds indistinguishable from their machines. I don't go to the Ark to hear machines. I go to hear music, and the stories behind them.

Which isn't to say that machines are useless. Breathe Owl Breathe combined electronics and traditional instruments to great effect. Andrea Moreno-Beals played her cello or the drums, Micah Middaugh switched from guitar to his “keyboard calculator,” and Trevor Hobbs sat behind his drumset with a stick in one hand and the other fiddling around with some kind of equipment. The sound was constantly changing in intriguing ways. All valid reasons why Breathe Owl Breathe is great to listen to on CD.

What's missing from a CD, though, is the infinite humor that comes with a live show. More than the moments when the audience was invited to join in by clapping or singing, more than Andrea's gorgeous cello lines that the tunes were so often built on, what drew me to this performance was the promise the stories so evident in their music. Add to that the quirky little dances—like the one for Saber Tooth Tiger—and the hats and other props the group likes to use...well, I just want to squee about it, loudly, all over the internets. I'm told that it would entirely un-objective, but I have to say that objectivity here isn't exactly the point. The point is—they danced! they had props! the music was inventive and well-played!

And the stories were like bottomless pits: you fall in, and you fall in, and you fall in.