Search and Destroy
I went to see Imogen Heap at Webster Hall last night. You might not recognize her name, but she’s responsible for the ubiquitous “Let Go” that was on the Garden State soundtrack, and she is a tremendous musician, both vocally and technically.
She does this thing I’ve never seen before, where she records a vocal sample on the spot, loops it, and stacks more on-the-spot samples on top of the original, until she’s created her own choir of sorts.
She also used a weird keyboard machine she wore around her neck, and as she sang the root note, this machine somehow processed her voice into intervals she could then manipulate using the keyboard. I have no idea how that thing works, I only know I desperately want one.
There was a giant Lucite piano. I couldn’t see the keyboard very clearly, but it looked like there was a whole bevy of mixing equipment up there with her. She was a total spaz while setting up for each song, having so many buttons to push and effects to activate, and each time she forgot to tweak something, she’d say “Oh, shit,” in the loveliest British accent. She had a few false starts when an effect didn’t work as planned, and spent a lot of time flouncing around the stage with a coxcomb of pink feathers pinned in her hair, making her seem dotty and altogether delightful.
The one negative of the night was the drunk jackass in the back of the room who felt the overwhelming need to scream “whooooooooooooo!” at every possible opportunity. This idiot was as loud, unmiked, as Imogen Heap was miked.
The first time, there was a lot of head turning, and some generalized audience laughter. Heap looked a little startled, but kept going.
The second time, there was less head turning, and a bit of audience grumbling.
I love seeing live music, especially when the musician, live, is even better than they are on an already impressive album, as was the case with Imogen Heap. But I did not pay $30 to have some drunk asshole howl like a wolf in a trap and fuck up my sonic experience. I’m totally down with enthusiastic yelling and applause in its time and place, but when it becomes clear you’re making a spectacle of yourself for the sake of letting the performer know you’re in the room, you need to be elsewhere.
The third time this human megaphone of irritation felt the need to contribute his yawp, it was at the beginning of “Hide and Seek,” a lovely, haunting, minimalist piece. The first 16 bars were almost totally drowned out by this moron’s vocalizations, and at that point I felt a deep urge to seek out, locate, and forcibly remove this person’s vocal chords. But then I would have missed the rest of my favorite song, so I had to content myself with sending the surliest of evil vibes his way, along with my 3,000 fellow concert-goers.
She does this thing I’ve never seen before, where she records a vocal sample on the spot, loops it, and stacks more on-the-spot samples on top of the original, until she’s created her own choir of sorts.
She also used a weird keyboard machine she wore around her neck, and as she sang the root note, this machine somehow processed her voice into intervals she could then manipulate using the keyboard. I have no idea how that thing works, I only know I desperately want one.
There was a giant Lucite piano. I couldn’t see the keyboard very clearly, but it looked like there was a whole bevy of mixing equipment up there with her. She was a total spaz while setting up for each song, having so many buttons to push and effects to activate, and each time she forgot to tweak something, she’d say “Oh, shit,” in the loveliest British accent. She had a few false starts when an effect didn’t work as planned, and spent a lot of time flouncing around the stage with a coxcomb of pink feathers pinned in her hair, making her seem dotty and altogether delightful.
The one negative of the night was the drunk jackass in the back of the room who felt the overwhelming need to scream “whooooooooooooo!” at every possible opportunity. This idiot was as loud, unmiked, as Imogen Heap was miked.
The first time, there was a lot of head turning, and some generalized audience laughter. Heap looked a little startled, but kept going.
The second time, there was less head turning, and a bit of audience grumbling.
I love seeing live music, especially when the musician, live, is even better than they are on an already impressive album, as was the case with Imogen Heap. But I did not pay $30 to have some drunk asshole howl like a wolf in a trap and fuck up my sonic experience. I’m totally down with enthusiastic yelling and applause in its time and place, but when it becomes clear you’re making a spectacle of yourself for the sake of letting the performer know you’re in the room, you need to be elsewhere.
The third time this human megaphone of irritation felt the need to contribute his yawp, it was at the beginning of “Hide and Seek,” a lovely, haunting, minimalist piece. The first 16 bars were almost totally drowned out by this moron’s vocalizations, and at that point I felt a deep urge to seek out, locate, and forcibly remove this person’s vocal chords. But then I would have missed the rest of my favorite song, so I had to content myself with sending the surliest of evil vibes his way, along with my 3,000 fellow concert-goers.
posted by Liz at 11:05 AM
2 Comments:
I'm a huge fan...although I just learned her name. Thanks!
oh live music! lucky you!
I saw Kaki King live when I lived in Vermont and she did the same thing with the looping. She used her FEET since she is a guitar player...it totally blew me away.
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