Another Uninnocent, Elegant Fall
into the Unmagnificent Lives of Adults

Tuesday night at the Showbox, waiting, watching the crowd. They're a lovely blend of shimmer and shab. A fitting and complimentary mix of well dressed girls and unkempt boys. Some nights you can tell who's here to see which band, but not this night. Seattlest got the impression that much of this crowd was like us: Here for The National, but also excited and curious to see what newcomer St. Vincent brings to the table.

St. Vincent, a.k.a. Annie Clark, isn't absolutely green, having toured with the likes of Sufjan Stevens and the Polyphonic Spree, but as a soloist St. Vincent is still fairly new to the eyes and ears of most Seattleites. All we really knew before this night was that we adore her somewhat startled expression on the cover of her debut album, Marry Me.

She climbs the steps to the stage in a pretty blue dress, crosses to the center, gestures humbly to the crowd with a little half-wave and picks up an electric guitar. We're expecting a band to follow, but there isn't one. Her only stage mate will be a lone column of blue and red light which pulsates brilliantly to the music.

With no band, much of the music for St. Vincent's more broad, cinematic songs ("Paris is Burning" for instance) is pre-recorded with Miss Clark providing the additional dose of impressive guitar play and, of course, her wonderful, almost haunting vocals. Not all the songs are performed in this manner. Some are simply voice, a bass beat controlled by her foot, and her enigmatic, inventive guitar work. At times the songs took on a quality both angelic and ferocious, like receiving a tender kiss only to have your tongue chewed off and spat back at you. Many in the crowd seemed not to know what to make of it, but we were in love.