The Decemberists at the Leadmill, Sheffield, 2nd February
With The Decemberists themes of street urchins, wartime soldiers and period characters there is something which does not quite fit the archaic act into tonight's setting of Sheffield Leadmill. As a voice bellows over the PA "now look around the theatre, look at the architecture, the people who have come before you" a member of the crowd shouts "It's a fucking shithole!"Something suggests the Decemberists traditional values may be lost on tonight's audience.
So as the band begin with the first track from the latest album, 'The Crane Wife 3' it comes as no surprise that the set moves off to a shaky start. Even throughout 'The Landlord's Daughter' as lead singer Colin Meloy attempts to shift the crowd, inviting them to stomp to the song's rhythm the onlookers are slightly shy, with the crowd and band quite hesitant to react to one another. It is not until 'Summer Song' that Meloy begins to show enthusiasm exchanging friendly banter with the audience as the band slowly come into their own.
The Decemberists have often stated that their enjoyment of live shows comes from gaining something different from each audience and this is obvious to see on stage as each member has their personal reaction to the songs performed. If it is not the guitarist creating mimes in relation to each line then it's the keyboardist at the opposite side of the stage secretly smiling as she counts down the beats to her improvised solo.
But also together the band connect magnificently, especially with the onstage partnership of Meloy and drummer, John Moen as they joke to one another. Additionally the band's movement through songs felt continuously natural as many members switch effortlessly between instruments (apart from a Hurdy Gurdy which pauses arrangements slightly) and glide into songs expanding their four full length albums. The emphasis was naturally on 'Crane Wife' yet the display of previous favorites was also justified as they highlighted earlier hits from ‘Castaways and Cutouts’, and ‘Her Majesty, The Decemberists.’
However, Meloy's voice at times did suffer especially during 'Billy Liar' where, falling over his lines a quick move to the chorus was prompted and certain notes were pushed aside for more favorable antics. Yet with his charisma Meloy almost managed to change this into a comedy act, encompassing it as part of the performance as he raises his eyebrows, with a glint in his eye to other band members. And it is partly through this onstage persona and demanding character that allows Meloy to have complete control over his peers, as within 10 minutes onstage he has the audience captivated by his every move.The set takes a new turn as Meloy orders the crowd to split down the centre of the room. As one participant hesitantly looks around Meloy demands "Pick a side! I don't care if your girlfriend's on one side and your friend's on the other, we're splitting families, this is war!" As he then proceeds to command us to shake our fists and growl at the opposing side. As the audience do so there is a feeling we're under Meloy's control, whatever he says now is law, there's no going back.
So it is with this power that Meloy then begins to play the crowd from one side to the other during '16 Military Wives' as each half of the room sings " la-di-da-di-da-didi-didi-da" at Meloy's demand. Slowly as he begins to speed, so do the band providing a building crescendo until both sides of the room are frantically shouting in each other's faces, giggling at the sight before them, a trick that Meloy then uses in 'Sons and Daughters' to finish the set. But unlike most performances the second time does not run dry as the audience almost whispers the lyrics. Moreover the audience participation does not shy away from the band as they too take part, and in many ways are more immature than their spectators.
As the encore includes the extended version of 'The Chimbley Sweep' Meloy touches every band member to the floor, announcing "they're asleep" before sternly adding "you can't drink beer, you're asleep!" as guitarist Chris Funk tries to secretly grab a can from a nearby amp. It then only takes one simple gesture from Meloy and the whole audience drops to the floor. With not one person left standing, the audience and band build to a triumphant chorus, proving that even an old shed can feel like a palace when the Decemberists are around.
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