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M U S I C
Where opinion becomes fact. Bitches.
Nellie Takes Her Bow
An Intimate Evening on a World's Stage
Maybe it was the city. No other metropolis brings to mind the thrill of live performance like New York. Its reach: inescapable, its influence: incalculable. Rooted in a deep tradition that stems from seedy jazz clubs and branches to the grand theaters of Broadway and beyond, its heart pulsates to the rhythmic beat of life with the hallowed halls of Carnegie being its cultural crown jewel. Known throughout the world for being a pedestal for talent, elevating a performer to the status of legend overnight while giving the seasoned a spotlight for their gifts, Carnegie Hall epitomizes the very New York phrase, "If I can make it here, I can make it anywhere."
In the three short years that have followed the release of her seminal debut, Get Away From Me, Nellie McKay has made a name and carved a niche for herself as a daring and dynamic wunderkind with a knack for pissing off the suits. Although it is welcome to see such an overtly prim and poised provocateur, subverting expectations with beauty and brains, were it not for the talent possessed by this charming rogue it would all be for naught. Catching the ear of famed former Beatles engineer Geoff Emerick and forging ahead with her own sonic vision by self-producing her sophomore effort, Pretty Little Head, Nellie has earned a place in the pantheon of visionary artists that have defied convention and broken new ground by playing by their own rules. So perhaps it should come as no surprise then to see one such as McKay take center stage, if only off to the side of Carnegie's main at the Arthur and Judy Zankel Hall, so early on in her career, cementing her status as this generation's most important talent.
The first thing that strikes when witness to a Nellie McKay performance is the absolute lack of the kind of pretense or pomposity that plagues other concerts, you won't find some obscure overture or smoke filled stage preceding her performances and this seminal show was no exception. Even the hall itself was low-key; imagine a high school auditorium plastered in Pergo from roof to floor. A brief introduction given by a local disc jockey provided prologue to the evening's performance. Lauding her accomplishments while avoiding outright deification, the orator exited, giving way to the star's entrance. Bubbly bouncing towards a large grand piano in the middle of the stage Nellie was greeted by appropriate applause and warm cheers from her public.
She began her set in earnest with an ode to feminist posturing. It was here at the very start that she revealed herself to be more iconoclast than icon. Sending up ideals made convictions by the bra burning brood, she ripped into any notion that she herself was to be counted among their numbers with the cutting commentary, "Feminists don't have a sense of humor." Perhaps she is saying more about herself than any one group, considering Nellie happens to be one funny broad with a decidedly feminine perspective expressed through song. There is a resistance against labels and classifications in her work, still, her music can also be seen as a rallying call for the otherwise marginalized. However, the focus is always on the music itself, crafting hooks that leave an indelible impression on the listener. Like a pied piper, she lures with melody but ensnares with sooth.
Replete with the requisite popular favorites that have remained in her repertoire since aught-four, McKay's solo interpretations of her impressive compositions were surprisingly dense and characteristically deft. The set list spanned cuts from her previously released double albums such as the touching Really, a rousing Work Song, complete with Mandarin audience sing along and primal scream climax, and a frenzied Waiter. She also auditioned several tracks from her forthcoming long player, Bunchashit (ed. note: The album has been given an official title of Obligatory Villagers). Ambitious and unforgettable gems gave hints as to the staggering imagination that her next spinner may display. The whimsical Oversure, with its racing piano line intro and calls to a woman named Maxine Shrek-perhaps the female counterpart to "Nosferatu" star Max Shrek, sets the stage with Say It Again If You Will and Santa Maria, a tender heart breaker that may be her first true ballad, anticipating great things to come when the completed album is released (ed. note: Both tracks will appear on Obligatory Villagers under the names Gin Rummy and Politan respectively).
Between songs she turned her attention to the audience as a means to engage a placated crowd that may have grown weary of staged moments of audience interaction. Her dialogue seems to be completely stream of consciousness, off the cuff and a bit scatter brain but never boring. She is the rare performer that seems completely unafraid to speak her mind, even when it may go against the consensus and therein lies the real wonder in seeing Nellie McKay perform live. A true feeling of anticipation for the unpredictable permeated the concert hall. Even when she paused to leaf through sheets of music and collect her thoughts, all eyes were on her. Every nuance, every tirade only served to endear her further to her fans.
It was not all gloom and doom as her trademark wit and sense of humor was in full effect this evening. Like respite to venom, Nellie asked her audience to consider a meat-less diet with empathy and humor. "I know how hard it is. Whenever I go to a vegetarian restaurant, I always ask, 'What do you have that tastes like a hamburger?'" A long time member of PETA, animal rights has been her chief cause, championing it at every occasion. Here, she made a case for vegetarianism as a means to curb the effects of global warming, citing evidence that supported her position, but just as soon pleading, "Go vega-fucking-tarian."
Saving the best for last, she closed her set with the premiere of a brand new song that encouraged audience participation in the form of dance, Zombie, an absurdly genius song whose lineage seemingly traces back to The Monster Mash. Shuffling her way through the tune with a grin that looked as though she was the cat that ate the canary, she left the audience in stitches, or perhaps more aptly, bandages. Urged to come back for an encore, Ms. McKay obliged with a welcomed performance of her most accessible number, The Dog Song, giving the audience just what they wanted. And then, just as soon as she had appeared, she was gone. Ovation over took applause as the audience stood and cheered their conquering musical monarch. The house lights were brought back up and the crowd shuffled outside. It was then the realization set in that for a little while we were all part of something truly magical. A shared experience heightened by the greatest city in the world but defined by a girl and her piano. What an incredible night.