I am a recovering punaholic. When applying words to the page, my mind naturally twists them into witticisms for my amusement. I regard it as a sign of good taste, but I realize that most people prefer their prose to taste good. (Did I also mention that I’m a master metaphor mixologist?) What makes me and my former sociology professor laugh generally induces groans among the regular reading public. With this in mind, I will try to exercise restraint going forward. But enough about me, let’s talk about Hey Marseilles.
Hey Marseilles is seven-man ensemble from Seattle, WA, the land of Microbucks, Starsoft and disappointing professional sports teams (oooh, there’s gonna be letters…). They are refreshingly beard-free with the exception of the drummer and, well, whaddayagonnado? In describing their sound, many critics have used the term “chamber pop.” I will avoid that phrase, as it causes me to think of “chamber pot” and, hence, irresistibly rich pun material.
Simply, I will say that by adding cello, viola, trumpet, clarinet, keyboards and accordion to the usual indie guitar/bass/drums instrument scrum, they transcend mere May-Decemberists. (C’mon, you gotta give me that one.) With cleverly-turned lyrical phrases laid over finely-honed melodies, they create music which makes rail-thin couples swoon. (Have you ever noticed how skinny people tend to pair up with other skinny people? It’s a case of love the one your width, I guess. Sorry, that one slipped out!)
As the band filed on the smallish stage at the High Watt, the near-full house greeted them warmly. Save an in store performance at Grimey’s New and Pre-Loved Music earlier that day, it was their first appearance in Nashville and they were genuinely appreciative of the hearty reception. Lead vocalist Matt Bishop is an engaging frontman and handles the bulk of the audience communication, leaving the rest of the band free to concentrate on their instruments.
And concentrate they do, displaying an acumen far advanced over the average strum n’ emote troubadours. The pinch of salt in this onstage soufflé is multi-instrumentalist Ahamefule J. Oluo. Alternating between trumpet, clarinet and percussion, Oluo kept things interesting all night. To push the baked-goods metaphor even further, some of his trumpet passages were downright Cake-like, deliciously so.
When I used the French word “soufflé” in the last paragraph, I should have made a seamless transition to the band’s name, which is also kind of French. Unfortunately, I was too distracted by my pun-avoidance task but I will address it now. Briefly, guitarist and band co-founder Nick Ward is French, Marseilles is a city in France and the whole thing rhymes if you say it correctly. Bands names have been chosen with much less validation, I assure you. Getting back to the show, the band was joined onstage by former Seattleite/ brand new Nashvillian Kaylee Cole, who sang background vocals on two songs.
“I just got off the boat, that special boat that brings people from Seattle to Nashville,” she quipped (hey, that’s her joke, not mine. Don’t shoot the messenger.) One of these songs, “Looking Back,” is from the band’s fine new album, Lines We Trace. Kaylee sang on the album recording as well, and as the song is about her former hometown, I can only assume it stirs nostalgic feelings for her. Or maybe not. In any case, her contributions were welcome and I hope she enjoys her new ‘burg.
The penultimate song in the set, “Bright Stars Burning,” is the album’s single and it instantly energized the crowd, sparked by a jolt of recognition. It was a nice momentum build from the syncopated hand-claps and jaunty rhythms of the previous number, “Rio.” It also, I think, gave a prescient preview of things to come, a time in the not-so-distant future when the band moves beyond small clubs to more spacious stages. Catch them in intimate confines while you can and pick up a nice heavy vinyl copy of Lines We Trace. There, my work here is pun, er, done.
(For the record, I will note that resisted naming this piece Cello There, Ladies & Gentlemen!, High Watt/Low Expectations? or Goober Says “Hey Marseilles!” My sociology prof would’ve peed his pants at any of those, though.)
