I’m so late doing this Grizzly Bear review that I thought I might change up my pitching a little bit and get post-modern. Here’s a review of the gig entirely made out of copied and pasted lines from things I’ve written on the blog in the past two years.
She’s the obvious candidate: she’s attractive, she wears cool stuff, she doesn’t sound like a culchie eejit and she is, lest we forget, a girl.
about four minutes of will-he-won’t-he guitar loops
It’s all very careful, very measured. But warm. Charming.
The voice is of course undeniable
His set was good enough, for what it was.
It took a couple of listens to properly unlock Veckatimest, but when I did, it got me to thinking. Some of this stuff is patent genius. Obviously the first single ‘Two Weeks‘ is one example, but as with Yellow House before it, some of the greatest moments are the ones hiding a little below the surface, popping out when you shine a light into a dusty corner in a room where the door’s been locked and the curtains have been closed for years until now.
musically and lyrically complex while staying accessible at all times, and it is a beautifully noble-sounding listen.
The question is not whether or not the germ of inspiration is going to be there, the question is how it’s going to translate to music.
The humble, hymnal harmonies of white spirituals. [….] Hushed tones. Undefined sadness.
Things that were on: Everything
Experimental in the least alienating and masturbatory sense, populist, mindful of craft, and blending together a full platter of familiar ingredients to create an entirely new dish.
In non-stolen terms, this was an unfathomably tight and beautiful concert – and yes, Grizzly Bear are sufficiently talented to merit the use of the word “concert” – from a band who’ve never misstepped in their career so far. Knife and Two Weeks were curiously subdued, but the likes of Colorado (from Yellow House), Ready, Able (from Veckatimest) and my personal favourite Grizzly Bear song Little Brother (from the Friend EP) made this great.
And a Dublin crowd that’s not murmuring amongst itself when a song is quiet? Unheard of.