Van Dyke Parks and Clare and the Reasons at the Button Factory

Not a photo from the Button Factory, sadly, but thanks to JeffPearson for its use.

The Button Factory, a little belatedly, is fast becoming the scene of major college-related celebrations — I danced away the night I handed in my dissertation to the world’s best Vampire Weekend tribute band, and last night I finished the week of my finals by smiling like a goon for a few hours on end, watching Clare and the Reasons and Van Dyke Parks.

Since last year’s gig at the Queen Elizabeth Hall, I’ve sought out Clare and the Reasons’ albums.  Thus I was fully geared up for their portion of the evening, in a way I hadn’t been last year, when I expected them to be simply a support act — again, like the London gig, they were much more like the first of two main acts for the evening.

If I have a criticism of their show, it was the fact that their versatility sometimes worked against them.  Every song saw the musicians leaving down one instrument in order to take up another, or swap instruments with each other.  While this was in itself delightful — like Sherlock Holmes, I always admire versatility — it did mean there was a momentum-dampening gap between songs.  The worst moment was before “Ooh You Hurt Me So”, when (if I recall correctly) a bass faltered badly, leaving the band members scrabbling with cables for an awkward minute or two.  But even here, victory was snatched from the jaws of defeat when Olivier Manchon started playing the universal signifier of hold music, “Girl from Ipanema”, on his recorder, considerably lightening the atmosphere.

I don’t wish to crab, though, because apart from this small matter, it was totally delightful.  (And perhaps these sorts of gaps are grist to their mill: after the “Girl from Ipanema” break, when they did begin “Ooh You Hurt Me So”, it was possibly the best song of their set.)  The band members are fantastically versatile (at one point, Olivier wielded three instruments at once) and yet extremely consistent, particularly in their sound — a real warmth pervades everything they do, regardless of tempo or mood.  This, I’m sure, is mostly down to Clare Manchon and her glorious voice.  I go through phases of wishing I had certain voices.  Dusty was top of my list for a long time.  Clare has deposed Dusty.

We got two world premieres of new material, with “Magpie” (moody, fab harmonies) and (I’m guessing at a title here) “Empty / I Got This Feeling” (more poppy, ambitious structure).  They finished up the set in fine style, with Duke Special joining the stage to finish. Clare sang Duke’s own “In Memoriam”, and Duke accompanied a shimmering, dreamy version of “Pluton” which segued into a fun “Pluto”.

After a short interval, the Reasons, sans Clare, took to the stage with Van Dyke Parks.  Again, the Reasons were excellent (and I didn’t know that Olivier had arranged all the VDP songs for the three-piece string accompaniment: what a clever man!), but the main draw was Parks himself.  Stephen Fry said something once on the radio about the pure enjoyment of seeing someone do something superlatively well (he may have said it more elegantly than that), and I think that about sums it up.  Parks is extremely good at what he does, and it is joyful to see him play.  However, it’s not just that he’s very good technically: he also exudes geniality, admitting in between songs that the audience will most likely see him at the bar after the show because he’s “not the retiring type”.

As well as being genial, Parks is very self-aware.  He spent the night introducing songs with serious political stories behind them — “FDR in Trinidad”, “Black Gold”– and, after giving the story behind “Cowboy” (it’s about the US domination of Hawaii), he turned to the audience with a great big grin to say that he’s “always thinking of toe-tappers”.  Such a comment mitigates the potential seriousness of such backstories, and enables me to reconcile this gravity with the fact that his songs really are groovy — if Parks can revel in the disparity, so can I.

The setlist was largely the same as last year, except, I think, for the classical piece (the name and composer of which I didn’t catch, unfortunately), and this is fine for me: it’s a tight, efficient set of songs that covers a lot of ground and, unlike the chap beside me last night (or, indeed, the BF) I’m not waiting with baited breath for anything particular — I was out of the loop on the collective gasp which greeted the introduction of “Orange Crate Art”, for instance.  I was just happy to be there, and happy to hear anything that came up.

I got an autograph at the last gig.  This time, with Parks near the bar rather than at a signing table, I went up only intending to shake his hand and tell him how much I enjoyed the show; I did even better, though, going away with a precious (“These damn things cost fifty-five cents apiece!”) business card belonging to the great man.  I will treasure it, all fifty-five cents’ worth.

See comments for full setlist.  (Also, VDP is interviewed on the most recent Word podcast: it’s good fun, you should check it out.)