Daniel Blue w/ Lou Doillon
The Triple Door, Seattle, WA
05.10.16
There are so many ways to be alone in the world, but watching Daniel Blue perform a solo set at The Triple Door, you get the sense that though he is flying solo, neither he nor the crowd is lonely tonight. Having bagged a gig opening for French chanteuse Lou Doillon at the Seattle supper club, Blue’s performance is a hint at what’s to come from his impending solo record.
“I sing in a band called Motopony, but tonight you just get me. I hope that’s okay,” says Blue as he takes center stage, “it means I get to play the soft ones.” With his trademark three-string plugged in and little other chat, he gets down to business. And that business is beautiful. Blue’s voice is clear and resonating through the quiet room, only the tentative taps of silverware against ceramic, as the audience goes about their dinner, break through.
Blue opens with a pared-down, plucked “Vetiver” from Motopony’s 2009 self-titled full-length, its gentle lyrics a foil for his eccentric vocal stylings, signature tremolo (or is it vibrato? Who cares, it’s awesome) intact. This leads into a down-tempo version of “God Damn Girl,” its repeated refrains more haunting than ever. Where there was a beat is left open, air to hang your emoting heart on.
Where Motopony seemed to have cache – in their brilliant musical schizophrenia and the inability to put their square peg in a round hole – Blue is riding his own wave into a character-driven, folk-pop dream. There is an intimacy in his mellifluous voice, as it stretches from a whisper to a full belt, and you can hear every note with impressive clarity. The tracks are sweetly off-kilter, harmonic within themselves, and delivered with care.
Blue pipes in with bits of stories, “This summer my friend came to me and was talking to me about what I considered to be a deadbeat dude she was trying to date. I just got that big brother feeling about it so I wrote her this song,” he says. What follows is a gently humorous and human take on a cherry red motorcycle called “Riding Like a Poem.” And then it just so happens to be his lady’s birthday, “’Lady Bluebird’ we call her. Or I do. She might think it’s weird if you do. This goes out to her.” He closes with the sweet “Wait For Me,” a set full of all the notes and all the feelings. And all you are left with is the satisfaction of wanting more.
This intimate opening gives way to French multi-hyphenate Lou Doillon, accompanied by a four-man band in support of her sophomore full-length Lay Low. Her moody pop, while low-key and soul-searching on record becomes big and sweeping played live. Opening with “Good Man,” her voice is big and deep, rough and sweet at the same time. There’s a bluesy twang to her sound.
Personal songs twist and turn through vintage riffs, and she takes turns on guitar or just playing the songbird, her highly-inflected vocals leading you through her storytelling. Doillon jokes with the crowd, “stand up or make massive arm movements, I love that. I don’t really make dancing music but if you’re able to move, feel free to do whatever you want.” A ripple of affirmation peels through the room as she also encourages kissing, i.e. snogging during the show.
The swingy alt-pop number “Devil or Angel” carries a lovely melody, and “Defiant” sees her jamming out and dancing around with the band. For “So Still” she switches to an acoustic guitar, and introducing the track, she tells a story about being with a “perfectly generous, kind, well-balanced guy and realized the more he was balanced the more it was driving me absolutely nuts.” But really, what it comes down to is that “what’s lovely for me about telling the story is I feel less lonely,” she says, “There’s always two or three people who laugh leavily, they’re just like you.”
So with fears and expectations lain bare, heartbreak and reality entwined, heavy guitars soar, psych rock trips out, and a languid beat fills the room. Doillon’s music is nothing if not sultry, and her live performance only serves to enhance the intrigue.
Review by Stephanie Dore
Photos by Sunny Martini
Daniel Blue
Lou Doillon 
