Last Tuesday, Sup Pop-signed band Vetiver co-headlined Black Cat with the reverb-obsessed Londoners, The Clientele. Both bands have an affinity for mellow songs and lyrics that err on the side of poetic. This generally isn’t a foolproof recipe for a rocking live show, but both bands were able to pull it off with a gentle, shoegazing grace.
Vetiver hit the stage first. Lead singer Andy Cabic sported a porkpie hat and requisite folk-y beard. The band launched into a set of warm and innocuous indie-folk tunes, slowly inducing swaying amid the still-accumulating crowd. This is the sort of stuff that creeps its way into soundtracks and coffee commercials — mild and vaguely lovely. While songs like “More of This” have a jaunty, rockabilly-sounding twangish kick, this was the mellowest of mellow stuff; it seemed to mumble on inoffensively in the background of Urban Outfitters nationwide.
The Clientele came on stage quickly after Vetiver wrapped up their set with an instrumental, bringing keyboards and a violin with them. The band’s latest release, “Bonfires on the Heath,” came out last October and contains more of the same dreamy, lilting, string-laced pop the band first became recognized for in 2000 when they released “Suburban Light.”
The lush texture of the Clientele’s music translated well with album-like accuracy. Songs from the band’s past and present like “Since K Got Over Me” and “I Know I’ll See Your Face” rolled smoothly into one another, punctuated only by lead singer Alasdair MacLean’s very dry and brief quips. At one point he asking a very enthusiastic audience member if his mother knew he was out, later urging that he should probably call her as she might be worried.
Mel Drosey attended keyboards and violin, both of which figure largely into the Clientele’s music, making poppy, Everly Brothers-esque arrangements in songs like “My Own Face Inside the Trees” sound dense and dream-like. The beer-drinking crowd mostly had the same dopey looks of contentment on their faces, rocking back and forth, some singing along tamely. A scream-till-you’re-hoarse, balls-to-the-wall show this was not, but the Clientele left the crowd reverb-drenched and wooed.
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