Cat Power’s live performances are infamous. Their retelling follows a similar pattern to the fisherman explaining the size of the biggest fish he ever caught. The time she made the crowd wait and delayed the show stretches out longer with each telling. People love to complain about how frustrated and put out they are with Chan Marshall’s onstage antics. But I’ve never understood that tendency. Most of the time, you go to a show, the band plays some songs, some of which sound very good, and you leave. Rarely does a listener get an opportunity to see the exposed soul of the musicians they love. I’m moved by Chan Marshall’s humanity.
Marshall’s current solo tour is making stops in venues far smaller than the ones she hit on her last tour. Rather than a show at ACL Live’s large space in the bottom of Austin’s W Hotel, Marshall performed at Antone’s small club space on East Riverside. Instead of mostly new tracks from her most recent album Sun, fans are being given an extensive set of primarily older material. You Are Free was my first experience with Cat Power, and Saturday’s set featured almost half of that album, including “I Don’t Blame You,” “Maybe Not,” “Names,” and a cover of Michael Hurley’s “Werewolf,” one of my favorite songs of all time.
Now and then, Marshall slips into uneasy, nervous actions—mumbling “You’re mad at me” when she misses a note and apologizing profusely. Someone from the balcony shouts, “Good Woman,” as Marshall sits at the piano. Nervously, she says, “I can’t… do that … song now, but I will, I will do that song for you.” Despite being renowned for awkward behaviors onstage, Marshall exhibits flashes of brilliance—humor, love, comfort. She thanks the crowd for being so nice, and says, “Maybe I’ll play Austin every night,” which results in uproarious, enthusiastic applause and whistles. Marshall grins widely and affably pantomimes shooting a free throw. She pauses in thought, hunched over the piano, and follows with, “Maybe I’ll just have sex with everyone in here tonight.” Again the audience erupts as Marshall pantomimes free throws. We all love her.
I’ve seen Cat Power five times, but never solo. As Marshall’s music progressed and the arrangements became increasingly full, the music certainly possessed impressive musical quality. However, that’s not why we fell in love with Cat Power. We’ve always loved Cat Power for the achingly beautiful lyricism over simple guitar and piano. As I write, I’m overcome with trying to explain in words just how much Cat Power’s music has meant to me over the years. I try to take comfort in knowing that long-time fans understand this impossible to communicate fact. Marshall’s music is the kind of music that, in some ways, can’t be explained—can only be felt. Seeing her solo emphasized this fact more than ever. It’s a rare opportunity. If you have the chance, seize it with both hands, tightly, and don’t let go.
All photos © Bryan Parker & Pop Press International. Click any image to open in slideshow viewer.
