After all of the superlatives are exhausted, after the accolades stumble over themselves in awe, after eager applause is rewarded with another encore, there will still be plenty to say about Aimee Mann.
Her show last night at the Pageant made this quite clear, as her songs of depression, self-doubt and emotional detachment were met with enthusiasm and smiles. Ironic maybe, but it proves that sadness and introspection are not instant depressants and that Mann’s craft allows a sort of communal understanding that is rare for such personal subject matter.
Not that the show was a downer–sure, Mann’s songs, especially from her most recent Lost In Space, touch on many of these unpleasantries, but there is no self-pitying mopery or sad-sack posturing. And didn’t some wise man once claim that sad songs say so much?
The set began with “The Moth,” one of the few weak tracks from her new record. No surprise that the moth loves the thing that will eventually destroy it, a symptom shared by so many of Mann’s characters.
The rest of the set was divided equally among new tunes and her impressive back catalogue, including the fantastic “Calling It Quits” and the poppy “Susan” from her epochal album Bachelor No. 2.
Mann may be best known to wider audiences from her contributions to P.T. Anderson’s film Magnolia, and the crowd was lucky enough to hear “Wise Up” and “Save Me” from the soundtrack. These two beauties were met with the kind of silence reserved for high art.
Special mention should be made of her backing band of musicians who, aside from deftly supporting Mann’s songs, provided some unbelievably sweet back-up vocals. Vocal harmonies are a hallmark of Mann’s records and it was a joy to see and hear them interpreted in concert.
Mann and her band offered two encores after the proper set, including a mostly acoustic “Red Vines” and a searing “It’s Not,” the song that closes and, in a sense, sums up Lost In Space.
After a by-request “Deathly,” the 75-minute set was over, and everyone in the crowd was a little wiser for the experience.
Sadness is a powerful creative force, and Mann’s ability to interpret and quantify the facets of this emotional state make her something special indeed.
