The Decemberists Put on a Rollicking Show in Pittsburgh, August 14, 2009

Back in the summer of 2005, I returned home from a trip to my grandparents' to find my brother at the computer, insisting that I listen to this band he had recently discovered. The song he played for me was epic in scope and length, detailing the lifelong quest of a seafarer to exact vengeance upon the man he blamed for his mother's untimely demise. The Mariner's Revenge gave me a pretty good indication of the style of the Decemberists, an indie band that got started in Portland, Oregon. I'd heard of them before, thanks to my online friend Willow, who had piqued my interest in the off-beat band, but it's hard to really understand their sound without hearing it yourself. National Public Radio occasionally has a feature inviting people to describe the voices of famous people; I'd love to hear them take a bash at lead singer Colin Meloy, the bespectacled, suspenders-loving thirty-something English major who writes all of the band's music. His voice is extremely unique: harsh and instantly recognizable. He sounds like someone who should have attended speech therapy as a youngster but didn't bother. But his voice is suited to his songs, which are equally unusual.

His interest in folklore and his expansive vocabulary leave him with a catalog of songs that largely sound like they could have been written a couple hundred years ago, thanks in part to his choice of words like "dirigible," "askew," "knickers" and "tamaracks". Most of his songs have a narrative element to them and are populated with vibrant characters who are usually either undergoing or causing great turmoil. Scarcely a song goes by that does not involve death or grievous injury. His morbid subject matter and his grating voice balance out his brilliance as a storyteller and lyricist and his band's creative use of instrumentation, making the Decemberists a band I enjoy but must listen to in moderation. So we declared a moratorium on Decemberists albums for the summer after we purchased tickets to their August 14 show at the Byham Theater in Pittsburgh. We wanted to be sure that by the time we went to see them live, we'd be good and ready to hear them again.

This weekend, we made the trek to Pittsburgh, where we arrived with enough time to wander around the theater district for a while, enjoying the artwork and stopping for dinner at a nice little Greek place across the street from our destination. The concert started at 8 p.m., so we headed over to the theater at 7, pausing just long enough to snap a picture underneath the marquis. The Byham is a stately old theater not unlike the Warner in my hometown of Erie. The decor and seating capacity are comparable, as is the team of retired volunteers selling overpriced snacks and beverages. There was also a stand with merchandise for the Decemberists and the band that opened for them, though I was disappointed that there were no tour books for sale. Still, Nathan and Dad got t-shirts. I didn't end up buying anything, but I was impressed that a couple of the albums the Decemberists were selling were on vinyl.

The concert was broken up into three sections, with an intermission between each. First up was Heartless B*st*rds, which really could have chosen a more palatable name for themselves but were pretty decent otherwise. Most of their music was very loud, and the lyrics weren't very discernible, though they did have one number backed by just a pair of acoustic guitars. The lead singer, Erika Wennerstrom, stuck around after the concert to chat with folks at the merchandise table, and she seemed pretty down-to-earth. Their set probably lasted about 45 minutes, and I felt a little sorry for them because half the audience didn't bother to show up until partway through their set. I can imagine all that moving around might have been rather distracting.

The Decemberists came out without announcement and spoke not so much as a word until they had played their way through the entirety of their latest album, The Hazards of Love. A concept album in the truest sense of the word, it revolves around four characters: the hero, William; his ladylove, Margaret; his adoptive mother, the Queen of the Forest; and a homicidal scoundrel known as the Rake. Having fallen in love with the lovely, virtuous young Margaret, William is no longer content to live under the controlling thumb of the woman who rescued him from mortal peril when he was a youngster. As he plots an escape, Margaret is captured by the Rake, and the jealous Queen aids him in getting across the river with his prey, hoping that will ensure she can continue to have William all to herself. As to what precisely happens to them after that, you'll have to snag the album to find out - though if you're like me, you'll still have to read a synopsis to figure out precisely what is going on in each song.

It took an hour or so for them to get through The Hazards of Love, which was quite the theatrical production. The spotlights were constantly changing colors, making the gauzy backdrop all the more eerie, and Colin Meloy, Jenny Conlee and Chris Funk were constantly changing instruments. Bassist Nate Query and percussionist John Moen didn’t do as much swapping, but they contributed just as much to the instrumentals. The stage hands really got a workout, especially with Meloy, who kept switching guitars. Vocalists Becky Stark and Shara Worden, who were guests on the album, reprised their roles as Margaret and the Queen for the concert. I loved the variety of the instruments, particularly the inclusion of chimes, mandolin and accordion, and the energy of the performers, with Meloy and his female co-stars doing their best to dramatize the action of the songs. Long-haired Stark in her green dress and short-haired Worden in black accentuated their singing by sashaying across the stage at every available opportunity. They also occasionally provided some instrumental back-up, most notably when Stark beat the massive drums at the front of the stage to provide the iconic pounding accompaniment to The Rake's Song.

Even though he's a thoroughly despicable character, The Rake's Song was almost certainly the most popular song of the set, met with great applause and much joining in on the chorus of "All right, all right, all right!" It was the song the Decemberists used to promote the album before it came out, and it doesn't seem to have taken long to lodge in people's minds. Neither of my parents can simply say the words "all right" anymore without singing the chorus, though Mom was horrified when she listened to the verses and discovered that the song is about a guy gleefully describing his disposal of his children in the wake of their mother's death. Less graphic but just as blood-curdling was the Queen's big number, The Wanting Comes in Waves / Repaid, probably the second-most popular song of the set. Worley really got to show off her powerful pipes on this one as the Queen shrieking her way through an argument with William, hitting those extended high notes with blistering ferocity.

Meloy was left to voice both villain and hero, and he sang lead on most of the songs. While he got his biggest response as the Rake, William garnered a healthy amount of applause for Annan Water, in which he earnestly pleads with the river to allow him to cross and rescue Margaret, with the understanding that this heroism will come at a heavy cost. If you've heard the album, you have a pretty good idea what to expect in this first part of the concert, but seeing it live adds an entirely different dimension to it.

The second half of their concert was much less predictable, since it was a mixed bag of songs from previous albums, as well as a couple of new ones and a cover. During this portion, Meloy did quite a bit of interacting with the audience, telling stories of the Decemberists' last gig in Pittsburgh, at a coffeehouse; of his walk to Fort Pitt that included his fortuitous spotting of a funicular; of his horror when he discovered that he had written what he thought might be the worst song ever... This story, like a News from Lake Wobegon segment on A Prairie Home Companion, spiraled out of control until it had become a ludicrous description of a world being flooded with rainbows and unicorns. On another occasion, he came out sporting a harmonica in a holder, claiming he really didn't know how to play it but just liked to walk around wearing it because it made him look cool. And then, of course, there was the random reenactment of the Battle of Fort Pitt that came in the middle of the last song, A Cautionary Song; while Meloy narrated, the band members onstage furnished sound effects and those who had ventured down into the audience acted out his story. It was very entertaining, albeit rather lacking in historical accuracy.

I was familiar with maybe half of the songs in the second set, including the wildly popular O Valencia and Shankill Butchers, both from 2006's The Crane Wife, voted best album of the year by NPR listeners and played dozens of times by my dad. One is about star-crossed lovers, the other about serial killers. I have mixed feelings about them both, but I loved the aside in the peppily naughty Billy Liar, when Meloy split the audience into three and had us harmonize on a progression of nonsense syllables. It was a moment that felt straight out of a Peter Paul and Mary concert. That was about the only time when he specifically solicited audience participation; a couple of times he encouraged clapping, another just whatever noise we felt like making. Of course, there was some singing along happening, but it was only widespread on a select few songs. I was a bit disappointed at some of the songs that didn't turn up in the concert, particularly the very Molly Malone-like Eli the Barrow Boy, which is probably my favorite Decemberist track, and I think Dad was especially hoping to hear the Civil War-inspired Yankee Bayonet. Nonetheless, we got another full hour for this part of the concert; it was well after 11 when we finally left the theater. Meloy was in the spotlight for most of this portion, though the women got a rousing duet with a cover of Heart's Crazy on You. Of the unfamiliar songs, my favorite was the surprisingly mellow and cheerful new number Summer Comes to Springville.

The Decemberists put on one heck of a concert. Their choice to play at a venue that probably seats fewer than a thousand, and not to even offer a tour book, may be a reflection of their popularity level; while they are extremely respected in certain circles, there are many who have never heard of them and who wouldn't be impressed if they had. As someone who has cringed over Meloy's sometimes gruesome lyrics and harsh vocals, I can certainly understand that. However, if you like grim folktales, varied instrumentals and literary lyrics, you just might want to give the Decemberists a try. And if you've fallen under their spell, their concert is an event well worth attending.