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alt-J brings menace, macabre to Sprint Pavilion

Indie rock band’s show far from a ‘RELAXER’

<p>alt-J's show at the Sprint Pavilion last Wednesday was unsettling, but ultimately beautiful and powerful.</p>

alt-J's show at the Sprint Pavilion last Wednesday was unsettling, but ultimately beautiful and powerful.

alt-J and Bishop Briggs played in Sprint Pavilion Nov. 1 on a crisp Autumn evening under a bright moon shadowed by a sparse few clouds. Though it’s doubtful the aesthetic was coordinated by some sleep-deprived concert manager, the two bands were truly at home under these conditions. 

Bishop Briggs, also known as Sarah Grace McLaughlin, delivered a promising opening act. McLaughlin — not to be confused to be with ASPCA’s Sarah McLachlan — traipsed across the stage, singing her punchy, albeit slightly repetitive music. With her formidable singing ability, McLaughlin is a few hits short of a status somewhere between Lorde and Hozier.

Next came alt-J. With three members each silhouetted between planes of light, the band appeared estranged and aloof to the audience. alt-J’s energy relies on maintaining this distance from their fan base. The band largely ditches any semblance of charisma or shtick, opting only occasionally for the half-hearted, “How’s everybody doing?” 

The band, in reality, didn’t really need to drum up enthusiasm from their audience — their music did the work for them. The band opened the set with “3WW” from their most recent album “RELAXER” — a song that set the tone for the show. One of alt-J’s most tender offerings, the song treats acoustic textures not as a sideshow for the inevitable bassdrop but, instead, draws them out and enlivens their contrast with computerized sounds. alt-J’s music reconciles the bassdrop from its sweaty, drug-addled EDM connotations. 

In “3WW,” among other songs, listeners were treated to the contrast between lead singer Joe Newman’s thin vibrato and Gus Unger-Hamilton’s rich counter-textures. Though alt-J’s lyrics are often too verbose for a concert audience to make out, their unconventional singing technique ranks among their greatest assets. Newman and Hamilton’s a capella delivery of “Interlude I (Ripe and Ruin),” for instance, added menace to what could otherwise be a trite ditty. Newman’s desperate falsetto is just as comfortable in the murderous frenzies that songs like “Fitzpleasure” and “In Cold Blood” conjure as in the softer tragedy of “Adeline.”

alt-J’s musical vision was expansive enough to truly fill the space under the Sprint Pavilion’s soaring awning. Out of context, the band’s product may seem a dismal compilation of fragmented dissonances, with form and unity only occasionally emerging. Live, however, the vast array of instrumental textures combined to full effect. The tin-like keyboard from “3WW” matched Newman’s hollow falsetto. The bleary organ from “In Cold Blood” conjured old slasher tropes, haunting the audience. A guitar modified with a roll of tape In “Taro,” achieved a Sitar-esque sound. And, of course, alt-J always leaves space for blatantly computerized sounds ranging from sawtooth soundwaves to static. 

The band’s diversity of textures is well-suited to their robust ensemble of sources. alt-J does does not simply reappropriate the Irish folksong found in “Adeline” to their own ends, but recontextualize it with electronic instrumentation. Similarly, their musical choices enliven their source material spanning from a historical anecdote about a photojournalist in the 1930s (Taro) to Richard Llewyn’s 1930 novel “How Green Was My Valley” (Pleader). Unlike many electronic artists, alt-J’s wild text-painting belies their deep respect for folk music traditions and textures. 

alt-J’s meticulously crafted musical vision, in short, works. The band supplied a far-reaching synesthetic experience — though their song structures, lyricism and instrumentation may seem maddeningly bizarre on paper, they felt viscerally essential on stage. 

The final song “Breezeblocks” was a fitting conclusion. Written from the perspective of a murderously possessive boyfriend, it ends with Newman desperately repeating a veiled threat “Please don’t go, I love you so” and “I’ll eat you whole.” Perhaps, as the Charlottesville audience echoed the eerily catchy refrain, a hope lay at the back of their mind — that alt-J would too listen and stay. Yet, just as Newman’s entreaty was doomed to fail, so too was the audience’s.

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