Friday 27/01/06 Colin Meloy, Laura Veirs @ TLA, Philadelphia

It should be noted that Colin Meloy, not The Decemberists, is the name on this bill. And there’s quite a difference. The acoustic, solo atmosphere lets the nation’s favorite pirate-poet focus on the darker, more mournful side of his songs. He abandons the Shins-esque pop charm of numbers like ‘July July,’ and creates melancholy odes: stories of suicide pacts and orphaned children, of lovelorn engine drivers and brutal bridegrooms.

Yet first there is Laura Veirs. Arriving in black-rimmed glasses, she blushes coyly and smiles at the audience. “Thank you for listening,” she repeats three times throughout her set, her strong voice keeping her songs afloat. But she’s mistaken, for the audience seems restless: her songs are defiantly folk, and occasionally repetitive. They lack the unique pop sensibilities that make Meloy so likeable. On stage she seems slightly awkward, rocking her guitar back and forth, blonde pigtails shaking. Songs like ‘Spelunking’ are charming, but generally lost on the audience.

Colin Meloy appears to riotous cheers and declarations of love, apologizing for not touring Philadelphia more recently. Reminiscent most of Loudon Wainwright in his stage persona, Meloy talks amiably to the crowd, lacing every word with knowing self-deprecation, even introducing the skull beside him as Cheryl and lamenting the absence of his friend Gerard, the wine bottle.

The songs are riotously received, as is his friendly banter. With a wry smile, he describes the half-song ‘Dracula’s Daughter,’ as “the worst song (he) ever wrote.” We have to agree. The charming ‘Apology Song’ bounces along, while ‘Down We Go Together’ and its tale of ill-fated lovers enchants the crowd. Epic, ten-minute opus ‘California One Youth and Beauty Brigade’ lags slightly but is ultimately moving. Turning the charm up to 11, Meloy announces that his long-term girlfriend is pregnant. He acknowledges that most paternal songs are dreadful (excepting John Lennon and Stevie Wonder), but comes up with something simple and sweet. “It’s weird and it’s wonderful, dear,” he sings softly.

Touting his deliberately, brilliantly perverse EP of Shirley Collins folk covers, Meloy invites folk singer John Wesley Harding to join him on stage. How fitting for the evening’s dark humor that Harding announces "I’m in town for a funeral, actually." They play together for two brief numbers that fail to connect with the crowd, but perhaps the story of an 18th century bandit called Turpin isn’t the most relatable fare. 

During ‘The Engine Driver,’ he proclaims “And I've written pages upon pages/trying to rid you from my bones,” and teenage hearts are broken. Before ‘Red Right Ankle,’ the audience is asked to hum along, and they oblige.  ‘My Mother Was a Chinese Trapeze Artist’ crafts a lengthy narrative of babies gambled away in cards, and returns to the nautical theme heard often in Meloy’s work. Closing with an acoustic version of Cheap Trick’s 'Southern Girls,' Meloy surprises his audience yet again. The perfect close to a weird and wonderful evening.