Photographs by Sarah Rix.
Erika M. Anderson has taken many notes from Yoko Ono, Kim Gordon, Bilinda Butcher and other queens of noise. She has studied them, practiced their styles and has made her own identity amongst the spikes of static and confusing feedback. Maybe she hasn’t, but it sure seems like she has. With many imitators trying to make noisy music without any actual thought or concern, EMA has stood out for a few years with her combination of folk and noise, and her show at the Horseshoe Tavern is proof that she not only knows what she is doing, but she knows how to do it well. With her new album The Future’s Void, and one of 2011’s best albums (Past Life Martyred Saints), she had a long list of blaring hits to play last night.
At this point, it’s no surprise that EMA pulled off the show extremely well. She sang with such raw emotion, destroyed her guitar enough to have to tune it after each song, and she had real chit chat with the audience as she talked to us as if we were close friends. After songs of depression, self identity crises and self mutilation, it felt nice to see EMA was doing well and that these songs were of past experiences. She mentioned that she was staying away from whiskey, which was a wink to us that she was in a good place. When I met her after the show, she seemed ecstatic to meet everyone. Her ability to separate her excitement from her performance in a good way, which is extremely rare, is a true testament to her abilities as a performer. She put herself on the line in situations she may very well not be comfortable revisiting for the show, and these dark corridors of which she reentered were ones we seemed to also have walked through, alongside her. It was an emotional trip and back again. When she performed California, not a single person was moving (again, for good reason); We were busy being blown away. Attach that mentality to most of her songs and some serious head banging for her heavier material and that emotional rush was her set in a nutshell.
It is impossible to write about the show without commending her band, of whom swapped around instruments like they were pogs. Their contributions were downright essential to the show, and EMA seemed appreciative of their work the entire show (sadly not something you always see at concerts). These were people that were dedicated to creating these audible, abstract landscapes. These were people invested in creating mists of beautiful cacophony. For Butterfly Knife, there was an extended midsection full of jamming that reminded me of Sonic Youth’s live renditions of Silver Rocket. Like Sonic Youth’s anthem of calamity, Butterfly Knife live was a riveting experience.
The night had ended and the band stuck around their merch table. EMA wrote sarcastic messages on peoples’ purchases of her albums, such as “your parents are very disappointed in you” instead of a traditionally loving message. Her sense of human connection is real, not phoned in. Her ability to laugh or make light of negativity is one that lets us know that she is alright, and that her hard hitting music left to be in her music alone. We will have a place to find a common ground in her songs, and now I know that we have that same sense of welcome at her shows, both with us sharing our hard times in her maze of chaos and the entire bands delight to both perform and connect with the audience. EMA is very deserving of large venues and larger fame, but if she is content with where she is now, that is also okay. All I know is that she has learned well from the best women in abrasive music and that she has what it takes to go further and larger.
Thanks to Collective Concerts for media access.
