Gary Clark Jr w/ Baskery
Moore Theatre, Seattle, WA
04.10.16
While it might seem, by his incomparable guitar-playing, that Gary Clark Jr. is from outer space, everything that happened during his sold-out stop at Seattle’s historic Moore Theatre proved otherwise. That’s not to say that his guitar-playing was anything less than inhuman, but rather that his depth of soul and reverential passion for his music was clearly on display, creating an aura of brutal humanity that was undeniable.
Onto a dark, undressed stage, Clark appeared with his three-man band, looking ever the Austin-bred, LA-based hipster that he clearly is. His torn skinny jeans, boho necklaces, work boots and trademark hat crafting a haphazardly-planned look on his lanky frame, his guitar slung low, his scruffy face in deep concentration. He opened the show with early hit “Bright Lights,” from his debut EP, and its flexing growl grabbed the crowd and never let go. Clark switched guitars after nearly every song, almost as if the guitar was truly too tired to go on, having just survived a brutal workout.
Being up close, watching his slim fingers soar over his six strings is dizzying. Watching his face, as he toils in his near-therapeutic lyrical masterpieces, heartbreaking. From the soulful “Ain’t Messing ‘Round” to the psych rock, screaming guitars of “You Saved Me,” Clark’s vocal trickery matches his instrumental precision. He employed a throwback, bluesy growl, and then suddenly swings into neo-soul, R&B master falsetto. Clark’s show may be a bare-bones setup, but its all about letting the music speak for itself. His banter – hardly more than an appreciative “thank you so much” – and humble showcasing of his band members completed the picture of the reticent artist at work.
Clark played most his 2015 album The Story of Sonny Boy Slim, impressively meandering from classic blues to hip hop to flat out rock and roll, a millennial soul man crossing the great genre divide with the kind of ease that only comes from two things: study and nature. And don’t doubt for a moment that Clark has both in spades. Lest we thought that twelve tracks were enough, after a quick t-shirt change and brow-mopping, Clark returned for not one, not two, but five more songs in the kind of legendary encore that you can’t forget, including the heavy, dirty blues of “Grinder” and the powerful, swaggering confessional “The Healing.”
Greta, Stella and Sunniva Bondesson, a trio of Swedish sisters known as Baskery, opened the show, and completely won over an oblivious crowd. From the very beginning of their set, the ladies set out on a warpath of multi-instrumental greatness. Between them, they rocked guitar, banjo, upright bass, and various drums, creating a wall of sound. Their alt-Americana sounds a bit like Swedish compatriots First Aid Kit, only bigger and badder, a vein of punk rock running through a body of bluegrass and roots.
Baskery’s ridiculously on-point three-part harmonies break the bounds of vocal prowess, and their natural spirit and matching outfits were endearing. There was epic, vintage folk rock, a bit of blues, a song about “cat flaps,” and a jump onto a bass drum, all making for a show and sound that might be hard to pigeonhole but was a definite joy to witness.
Catch Gary Clark Jr. on the remainder of his US tour run, tickets here, if they’re not sold out.
Review by Stephanie Dore
Photos by Arel Watson
Gary Clark Jr
Baskery
