One could be excused for missing Joanna Newsom’s opening act, the forgettable and largely annoying P.G. Six, who seemed determined to fuse the 70’s hard-jam sensibilities of Neil Young with the more jazzy leanings of Tom Verlaine and Television. They largely failed to approach either of those heights, and for an audience that was primed for an evening of nouveau folk harp and sweet melodies, it was a mismatch to begin with. As it turned out, a large portion of the sold-out crowd didn’t have much choice as to whether they saw the openers or not: by the time P.G. Six took the stage, the line to get into the ‘Cat still stretched all the way down the block to the front of St. Ex. When they left the stage some time later (and almost an hour and a half after doors opened), there was still a significant line waiting to get in. Seriously, I know space is limited in the entranceway of the club, but there has to be a more efficient way of getting bodies in the door for a sold out weekend show.

By the time Newsom did take the stage, though, it seemed most of those who wanted to be there had made their entrance. They stood in hushed anticipation, breaking out into exuberant cheering as she walked onstage. It’s a wonder to see the kind of adulation the shy harpist inspires. Of course, she inspires disdain just as fierce in those who just can’t get their ears to accept the childlike warble of her peculiar vocals. Those folks, of course, weren’t around, unless they’d been dragged in by friends determined to win them over.

Whether such conversions were made, I can’t say, though she seemed to make good headway early on. Newsom began the concert with the first song from her first full length, “Bridges and Balloons,” probably the song that had served as the introduction to her music for many in the room. After the initial excited hollering of recognition, the respectful hush came down again, most eyes and ears focused in smiling reverie on the delicate sounds issuing from the harp and voice on stage. This continued as she went on into “The Book of Right On,” also from the first record, and a less familiar Scottish hymn that still fit easily into audience expectations.

Photo of Joanna Newsom by Flickr user beth harris. Used by permission.

But after those first three songs, the mood changed. Her new album, the lush and beautiful Ys, expands on the simpler construction of The Milk-Eyed Mender with beautiful orchestrations courtesy of Van Dyke Parks and remarkably nuanced engineering by the often confrontational Steve Albini. On tour, Newsom has rearranged the compositions for a backing band of keyboards, accordion, guitar, banjo, saw and percussion, and these musicians came out to join her on stage as Newsom declared that they were going to play her new record now.

And that’s exactly what they did, play each of the five extended compositions from Ys, almost all of which clock in at over 10 minutes in length. On the one hand, it was a bold move. Newsom is obviously in love with her new material, and why shouldn’t she be? The songs on Ys are ambitious, dramatic and heartbreakingly beautiful. In their alternate live arrangements, her vocals became even more immediate, and the medieval bard-pop of the record took on new facets with the stripped-down accompaniment, thrusting Newsom’s voice, in all its creaking, innocent glory to the front. But the problem was, a lot of the crowd was still unfamiliar with the new record. And even for those who were, listening to five very long songs all strung together for the better part of an hour is enough to try the patience of any standing audience. The background chatter rose steadily throughout the program, and by the end had all but engulfed the back of the room.

Their recital of the record now over, Newsom and the band said their thanks and left the stage. The crowd, though, wanted more. More specifically, they wanted to close with some of the songs they’ve grown to know and adore for the past 2 years. The applause and shouting went on for a long time, but confusingly, Newsom never returned. It has been reported that she is not averse to doing encores on this tour, of exactly the sort the Black Cat crowd was clamoring for. But on this night, it seemed nothing could bring her back, even the fervent applause of a sold-out crowd. Whether she was unnerved by growing noise in the room throughout the set, unhappy with something else, or just wasn't in the mood, who knows, but it was a bitter end to the evening for many.

Still, in retrospect, maybe the quality of the show rose above the simple concerns of what she played or didn't play. For after many more beers, and some time spent listening to the raucous and bass-pounding music in the basement of St. Ex after the show, I should have woken to a monster hangover and the faint residual pulse of the club bass. But what I did wake to was a clear head, a sweetly repeated melody from deep in the center of Newsom's "Emily," and fond memories of the performance that had planted it there.