By: John Krause
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Cat Power - Publicity Photo by Wendy Lynch
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I've only recently discovered the music of Cat Power (the moniker for Chan Marshall). The first time I had heard about her it was in a music magazine a few years ago. In this article (and many others since) the author had written about her onstage temperament being a bit flaky, her crippling stage fright, and propensity to cancel every other show on her tour. Well, being a fan of her music and her latest CD The Greatest, I wanted to check her out on her solo stop in Minneapolis.
Despite warnings about previous shows I decided to go, giving Chan the benefit of the doubt. She would be playing at a very cool and intimate venue here (described by one weekly magazine as having an "opium den vibe") and in front of us supportive Minnesotans. What better environment could an artist want and have to break free?
The theater was packed, with the people sitting cross-legged on the Persian rugs of the theater reluctantly having to stand up. Chan would soon be on stage. This was going to be great.
Chan walked out on stage, and I didn't notice her for a moment. She was never in spotlight. She looked beautiful. The audience applauded and Chan smiled, strapped on her electric guitar, and stepped to the microphone to say, "I had some sound problems at the last show," and started her set. Chan's voice sounded amazing and was always on key, and her timing was dead-on. She played for nearly 35 minutes, just her and the guitar, and then her on the piano. The crowd was respectfully quiet and still while she played, and they applauded enthusiastically after every song. She sounded beautiful. This show would be different.
And then she started commenting about the sound.
Chan stopped to ask for more reverb on her guitar. At another point she would ask for more guitar through her monitor. We would learn that "Erik" was running the sound. Could he do anything right? She talked about not remembering notes to songs. She played a few songs with false starts. Always, the audience was supportive. Almost on cue a "we love you Chan" was shouted from the audience, and then later "you sound beautiful," and then a "don't think too much about it, Chan." She would acknowledge these with a "thank you" or a "I'm just trying to educate you" and then play for more. She did sound great, when she played. I wondered whether a song would be finished or whether it would be stopped short, often just close to its ending anyway.
On her upright piano soon after, she would stop in mid-song, throw her arms up to rest at the top of the piano, hang her head down and, after a second of silence, shout "I can't stop thinking about the sound." The audience was silent, until someone broke it with a "you sound great from here!" And it went on, again and again, with Chan seeming to self-destruct on stage, songs getting slower, more repetitive, and more sullen. The audience started thinning, with some people able to sit cross-legged on the Persian rugs again.
I don't know how Chan ended her show. I didn't want to stay for it. Feeling a bit played and exhausted from her performance, I went to the back of the venue and watched for a moment before leaving. The crowd was at about a third of what it was, with those still there standing respectfully watching this lone girl on the piano with no spotlight, who sang and played so beautifully yet complained about how badly she sounded.
Location Info:
The Varsity Theater
Artist Info: Cat Power
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