Matthew Esposito Photos
“Put me on a pedestal, and I’ll only disappoint you!”
The College Street Music Hall crowd scream-sang along with Courtney Barnett.
“Tell me I’m exceptional; I promise to exploit you!”
In the pit, a teenage girl with winged eyeliner looked around to make sure she wasn’t the only one letting loose. Near her, a white-haired man in a ponytail thrashed his arms to the beat. Toward the center, rowdy 20-somethings tossed their bodies against one another; if there were ever a time to mosh, it was now.
“I think you’re a joke, but I don’t find you very fu-u-u-u-u-nny!” the Aussie rocker continued from the state, as two middle-aged women crooned the line to two middle-aged men.
In fact, at that moment, there wasn’t a single person in the hall who didn’t sing along.
“Pedestrian At Best,” was the song: the 2015 lead single from Courtney Barnett’s debut album, and also her second-most streamed song on Spotify. It was an obvious highlight of the singer’s set on Tuesday night, as the snarky lyrics gave way to a collective, unadulterated release of pent-up frustrations.
The Australian singer, songwriter, and guitarist came to College Street Music Hall for a stop on her tour to promote Things Take Time, Take Time, her third studio album, which came out last November. She cycled through guitars as she played through her repertoire, touching on fan-favorites from her previous works.
Floor lamps and Persian-like rugs decorated the stage, giving the backdrop to her performance a living room feel. Although her music can reach high intensities, Barnett’s mood was mostly nonchalant. She stretched onto her tip-toes to change chords and shrugged her shoulders along with her strumming. She let her messy shag haircut get messier as she bobbed her head during heavier guitar solos.
Throughout her performance, it became clear that Barnett’s prose — echoing in choruses throughout the arena — is at the crux of relating a seemingly disparate fanbase. While Barnett’s instrumentals can range from mellowed-out acoustic indie to fast-paced, chaotic rock, her prose is consistent in its rambling wit and specificity. She strikes a balance that feels deeply personal yet somehow relates across demographics and experiences.
This lyrical skill is what made Barnett’s concert so cathartic. Words that conveyed intimate, alienating feelings were suddenly the point of unity for thousands of audience members. Like on “Small Poppies,” Barnett and the audience sang: “I don’t know quite who I am, oh but man I am trying. I make mistakes until I get it right.”
Or the words can feel like personal mantras, comforting and instructional: “Keep on keeping on/You know you’re not alone,” she sang in “Sunday Roast.” Sometimes the lyrics rage against double standards; other times they confess love.
No matter the song, Barnett’s fans agreed on the points of lyrical genius and shouted them back at the stage.
Barnett’s Tuesday night show was rescheduled from February. Her rescheduled tour then introduced a new opener, Shamir, to replace the previous act, Julia Jacklin. Shamir Tuesday night sang songs off of his album Heterosexuality, which came out earlier this year. His emotional lyrics challenged the hegemonic ideas of gender and sexuality, as he sang, “I don’t know what to do to make you comfortable.” The rawness of the emotions behind the song was palpable, even as Shamir kept a deadpan stare on the audience.
