Australian singer-songwriter Courtney Barnett’s debut LP came out in May of last year, but most Americans didn’t find out about it until a few months ago when it finally got a US release. The album, The Double EP: A Sea of Split Peas, is a slew of druggy shoegaze songs that ride on Barnett’s Dylan-esque vocals with ease. Its summer riffs and Aussie musings were quick to find fans overseas and, in a matter of weeks, prompted a sold-out crowd at her first Boston show this Wednesday, revealing Boston’s hopelessly enamored interest in every last track.
New Orleans blues rocker Benjamin Booker opened the evening with confidence – reasonably so, considering he will be opening for Jack White in a few months. His energetic set paired whispery soul-scratched singing with shuddering bass lines with tight drumming that lifted the crowd’s spirits to dance. Even Booker — who gently squinted his eyes while singing like he was trying to sleep instead of the usual spirited clenching — had his heels twisting inwards and out, shuffling side to side to his back porch ruckus.
Courtney Barnett took the stage quickly thereafter in the most casual manner I’ve ever seen. She wandered around, toyed with her guitar, and began playing without drawing attention to herself. It was a nice, albeit different, atmosphere where she played like she was at home, surrounded by a room of longtime mates that came over for an afternoon’s entertainment before hitting the bars after midnight.
That’s because everything’s chill. Barnett’s music and live shows both come across as a hobby rooted in boredom, one that feeds on genuine interest but sprouted with inexplicable ease. Her round, youthful face was hidden more than half the show as she rocked back and forth on her heels and stuttered around the stage playing guitar, her hair closing around on the front of her face like furry curtains (“The longer we’re on this tour, the more I realize I need a haircut,” she later admitted). Instead of working to create a chill image, Barnett just is. It’s refreshing, honest, and rightly endearing.
The more she jammed with her bassist and drummer, the more fun the trio had. Little laughs were exchanged during “Lance Jr.” and “David” as they tried to kick one another, an act that led to a short chase around the stage. At one point between songs, Barnett picked up her guitar, noted its reflected light on listeners’ faces, and turned 180°, shooting the light into everyone’s eyes while shouting “pow.” Her childish demeanor and nervous banter only made standout tracks “History Eraser” and “Don’t Apply Compression Gently” all the better.
There’s no disputing Barnett’s wit, either. “The paramedic thinks I’m clever ‘cause I play guitar. I think she’s clever ‘cause she stops people from dying,” she sang in “Avant Gardener,” one of many lines that got a chuckle out of the crowd. Her blunt humor (pun intended) keeps listeners on their toes, ready for the next joke in what turns out to be the most playful lyrics a debut artist could write without getting an eye roll for trying too hard.
Barnett commanded the stage, even with handwritten notes with bold sexual scribbles being thrown onstage (which Barnett later applauded and held a setlist for its author) as well as angry plastic cups (brought on by “Out of the Woodwork” and her request to “Feel free to aim [trash/anger] at us – but not in the form of glass bottles.”). As she closed with an encore of “Depreston” on acoustic guitar, Courtney Barnett left the crowd enamored with her music and the slice of Australia she represents. As she said earlier in the set, “I feel like we’re friends now that we’ve been sitting here singing songs together.” To be honest, I think that’s all anyone in the room really wanted after all.
