With no other musicians on stage, the spotlight at the Rebecca Cohn auditorium in Halifax was squarely on Leslie Feist and her acoustic guitar.
“I haven’t played a solo show in so long I can’t even do the math,” Feist told the audience as she kicked off her solo Mettle tour.
Throughout the first part of the concert she seemed nervous, as if she was entering uncharted territory. Her inner dialogue came out, expressing she didn’t know what to talk about in between songs. And while it was funny, it felt awkward. Feist is a Canadian icon. She’s one of the most important women in Canadian music right now. But at this moment in time she was a vulnerable musician.
She had difficulty getting the crowd to sing along. It wasn’t because the crowd didn’t want to, rather there was a sense everybody was enchanted by the performance. You could hear a pin drop while she was performing, but after each song that silence was broken by thunderous applause. Even the crowd seemed a bit nervous and possibly afraid that singing out loud in a quiet room full of strangers might make you look stupid.
Perhaps it was because nobody knew exactly what to expect. Songs that are recorded with a band and performed live with a band are bound to sound significantly different than somebody performing solo with limited instrumentation. The whole night felt like a secret as Feist let the audience have a special glimpse at where her songs come from. It had a feeling similar to when a friend tells you something uncomfortably personal that ultimately forges a close and intimate friendship.
But then the moment happened. That moment that only happens at special shows. It’s that moment where your hand won’t reach for your cell phone to check the time or to see if somebody liked your Instagram photo from earlier in the afternoon. The moment reminds you of why you go to concerts instead of only listening to records.
The moment came when she told a folk tale about the about people finding new islands to live on based on the intuition of a baby boy who grew up in the water. In the tale, the boy points the islanders travelling through the seemingly endless Pacific ocean but eventually they would find land based on the feelings of the child. She followed her intuition, a gut feeling that she should bring back a song that she hadn’t played for a long time. This song was not a rarity or old song. Rather it was her most popular song, “1234”. But this time, it was not a happy, bouncy, sing along version of the song. It was slowed down, giving each word and strum of her guitar time to sink in. The darker side of heartbreak and questioning was revealed, something you can’t picture when you see colourful dancers in the iPod commercial.
She seemed comfortable and confident telling the story and performing this rendition of the song and the crowd could sense this. She was able to get the crowd to sing along, something they seemed uncomfortable to do until this moment had happened.
During her second encore she declared “this is a moment people” when she brought out Gord Downie of the Tragically Hip along with Broken Social Scene front person Kevin Drew to perform a cover of the Hip’s 1999 song “Flemenco”. This move was wildly popular with the crowd, but the truth is it didn’t really make sense. Why was Gord Downie in Halifax anyway? In the end, however, it didn’t matter. While it was a memorable moment, the biggest take away from the show was the fact Feist truly is a special singer songwriter. One who can walk into a situation that feels uncomfortable but steer this nervous energy into something that pulls a room full of people together.
Photo: Jonathan Briggins/Mixtape
