It’s pretty remarkable how much one performance can change your perception of an artist. Take Patrick Wolf. Prior to his first ever show in the District this past Monday night, we might have classified him as a musician whose sensibilities lie somewhere between electronic music and Baroque pop. We now know, however, that while stuttering, glitchy beats sometimes take precedence on his albums, the heart and soul of his songs lie in the string arrangements.
Similarly, we might have logically assumed that Wolf’s onstage persona would be pretentious, self-absorbed or even standoffish, due to his characterization by the media as an enfant terrible. Shows what we know: throughout Monday night’s set Wolf was relaxed, affable and downright funny, occasionally stopping to laugh at his own dramatic posturing. And given the onstage unraveling of his live band during his last U.S. tour, we never expected Wolf’s band to be quite so loose and jovial on stage. Monday night’s performance challenged our perception of Patrick Wolf in just about every regard save for one: we still think he’s one of the most inventive young songwriters around.
Getting the night off to a suitably eclectic start, opening act and fellow Brit Bishi certainly helped pave the way for the main event. Anyone walking into the room during her set would have been treated to the following sight: Bishi onstage in a flamboyant gold costume with pointy shoulders, plucking away at a sitar strapped to her front like a guitar while awash in the reflected light of a disco ball. Most songs found her playing sitar and singing over jarring club beats, which she played from an iPod. While her music was not unlike that of club/house artists with pronounced Indian influences (think Panjabi MC but with live sitar and vocals) her stage presence suggested that she’s more songwriter than DJ. All in all, it was an engaging, if atypical, set and judging by the applause that she received before exiting the stage, most of the folks in attendance felt the same way.
Bishi’s costume may have initially turned heads but Patrick Wolf certainly saw to it that he wasn’t preemptively upstaged. After his four piece band had already taken the stage in formal attire (the upright bassist wore a tux), Wolf emerged from the darkness, looking like a kid who had pieced together a costume from his mother’s closet in preparation for a game of cowboys and Indians. Wearing a only a child-sized vest and a homemade garland above the waist, his body covered in glitter and his Strawberry blond mop decorated with feathers, the tall, gaunt Wolf certainly commanded attention. Sitting on a stool at the front of the stage, he lazily plucked out the opening line of “Wind in the Wires” on a ukulele, the band slowly falling in line behind him. The song took its time building up tension before Wolf belted out the chorus, his voice every bit as dramatic and rich as on record.
