Akron/Family / Blind Pilot
Date: 20 May 2009
"Quiet, ambling moments, followed by twenty-minute walls of sound"
James Cartwright
I am a great lover of beards. They hold a very special place in my heart. Something about the wiry majesty of a well-groomed piece of facial topiary leaves me with an undeniable sense of warmth. Whether billowing wistfully in a light breeze, or rustling gently under the inquisitive digits of a thoughtful muso, the beard is a truly proud physical ornament. The prospect of witnessing three of these exquisite tufts strapped to the chins of some particularly gifted musicians (music being my second great love) therefore, has me in a state of jittery anticipation. I'm not alone in my excitement either; the throbbing mass of bodies filling the bar before Wednesday's Akron/Family gig served as a testament to the crowd-pulling power of guitar-wielding, folk-loving beardos. What a prospect.
Imagine then my disappointment when, upon entering the theatre, I discovered that the support act for the evening's festivities possessed not a whisper of convincing chin-shrubbery amongst them. Granted, a couple of their number were of the fairer sex, but would some pythonesque false-fuzz have been too much to ask? Nevertheless I was willing to forgive these crimes against hirsuteness for a well-constructed tune. "This is our first time in London," mumbled Blind Pilot apologetically after airing a forgettable first song, "...we're originally from a remote town in Oregon." How romantic to witness a small-town band seeking their fortunes in the big city, you might think. Sadly the rest of their set simply confirmed that the big city would probably swallow them up, spit them out and ask for directions to the real music. But for those of you who'd like a more accurate account of the musical aesthetic of their set, I advise you to go out, buy yourself a Counting Crows album - it doesn't matter which one, they're all alike - and play it quietly on your living room stereo. Underwhelming isn't it.
Thankfully not all folk music is happy to settle for mediocrity, far from it in fact. Akron/Family peddle the kind of beautiful, tripped-out folk that inspires blissful euphoria in their listeners. They also know a thing or two about muzzle plumage, each one of them possessing a unique specimen - a powerful combination by any standards. As they meander casually onto the stage and assemble around a central mic the excitement becomes physical, bearing down on the audience with unimaginable force. I begin to sweat. As their three-part harmonies start to fill the void left by fulfilled anticipation, the audience of strangers become brothers in arms - sort of. Regardless of my romanticised folk ideals, Akron/Family turned out to be a night that would have impressed the staunchest of folk-deniers; racing through their two-hour (!) set in what seemed like mere minutes. They offered up quiet, ambling moments, followed by twenty-minute walls of sound; wistful solo voices preceding tightly constructed group harmonies, a man beating drums with maracas, another tinkling bottles with spoons. Half way through the set, Blind Pilot were invited back onto the stage to take up instruments and play with the family, an exercise that served only to demonstrate the skill of Janssen, Olinsky and Seaton - Blind Pilot appearing like uncomfortable buskers in the wake of such talent. And to cap it all off, they dived into the crowd to finish with a group sing-along, which had even the heavily pierced, tattooed man stood next to me swaying and crooning into the air. Hippies with beards; they're OK by me.
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