An Indianapolis-born angel touched down in the PNW last weekend, appearing as a vision to crowds in both Portland and Eugene. Some call her Adrianne Lenker, others call her “mama.” Before Dec. 4, I had never dove into the melancholy pool of acoustic balladry that Lenker has created, but as I write this recap, I’m blasting Big Thief’s “Pretty Things.” So I suppose you could say I’m splish-splashing now.
Let me set the scene for you. My buddy and I pressed through the early December drizzle toward the doors of the Wonder Ballroom, a midsized Portland venue with the charm of the 1914 build peeking through the cracking walls. The sign above the place let out a neon pink glow that lit up the faces of the beanie and sweater clad crowd among us. On our way in, my pal said to me, “It’d be a good drinking game to take a shot for every beanie we could count.” That’s Portland for you.
We squeezed into the sold out show and were greeted by Brian QTN, a Chicago native who couldn’t be more by-the-book Oregonian if he tried. He was Lenkers opener and an older gentleman with wiley gray hair, wire rimmed glasses and a vibe that was somewhere between the Neil Young type and your primary school art teacher.
Lenker mentioned later that he was a great friend of hers and, though he began as an enigma to the crowd, by the end of the show he felt like our friend too. In Eugene terms, he was like Frog on East 13th Street if Frog had a Hohner Harmonica Holder. When he was done with his mostly cheery set, the audience sent him off with claps and smiles, the laugh before the cry if you will.
After not too long, Adrianne Lenker took the stage, seated center on a wooden stool with her chunky black boots just barely flat on the ground. She only stands at 5’5, but her presence made her look as tall as ever. When she started on her first song, “Not a Lot, Just Forever,” the only sounds in the whole joint were the sniffles and whimpers from the handful of listeners who were doubled over in a light cry. It was the weirdest thing to witness, no movement and no chatter from a crowd of that size felt foriegn. Everyone was stuck as still as they would’ve been in a movie theater, simply observing and absorbing it.
I was watching the whole thing happen around me more than I watched the show itself. Lenker isn’t even half past 30, but her presence was as maternal as my concert companion had told me it would be. Her stagewear was a pullover atop a turtleneck and her short-shaved head, which I imagine needed no manicure in the tour bus prior to performing. Her plain look was comforting, and it told you she didn’t think she was any better than those watching just because she was on the stage.
We got to hear some rare plays like “heavy focus” — which she’d only played twice prior — and a seldom played track from her band Big Thief called “Happiness” that was only four plays old itself.
The thing that I’d say stuck with me most, besides the ache in my lower back from standing motionless for over an hour, was her demeanor when she wasn’t singing. Lenker made it look easy the way she would pluck at the guitar like a pro and perform her tracks without a hitch. The only place in the whole performance when I could feel her falter was when it was time to address the crowd. Her soft voice would shake, and she kept it brief. It’s pretty funny she could sing songs to us spelling out her most intimate moments without any shadow of a doubt, but looking down at the sea of people there just for her was what appeared to feel most overwhelming.
Leaving the venue that chilly night felt like the crowd of 800 or so had all just shared the same joint of heavy indica. The sleepy eyes and dozy smiles as we all promenaded out of the Wonder Ballroom were reminiscent of a collective trance. Lenker’s night in Portland was something to remember. Though to be honest, I don’t really remember many of the specifics at all. All I know is the whole atmosphere was nothing like anything I’d ever seen before, and it’s something I’d like to see again.
