The performance was opened by award winning singer Ngaiire, ably accompanied by Sarah Belkner and Elana Stone. Ngaiire had promised to present, "an all-girl band of babes to deliver a stripped back set" and that is exactly what she did.
The three women, armed with synthesisers and sequencers, delivered Ngaiire's works with simple and intelligent arrangements that allowed the extraordinary voice and subtle harmonies to shine.
They were very, very good and latecomers to the audience really missed out on an all too short but powerful performance.
The Sufjan Stevens band took to the stage after a rather awkward looking change over. The stage crew were efficient and skilled enough, but to strip a stage of complex electronics and to dress it again with other complex electronics is never going to be pretty. Had the house lights been brought up earlier, perhaps the audience could have been spared the ordeal.
The band consisted of Stevens himself and four other players who moved effortlessly from instrument to instrument. It became clear very early on in the performance that, in order to become a member of this ensemble, it was vital to be able to play a number of instruments to a high level and to do it all in the dark. Stevens himself was often the only target of illumination, even during quite complex arrangements.
The lighting was complex and beautifully controlled.
Projections onto the rear wall of the stage offered videos of children playing, of clouds moving over landscapes, of still images, all broken by window-like framing reminiscent of castle arrow slots or cathedral stained glass windows. The effect was at once soothing and intriguing.
The projections precluded any strong front lighting which would weaken the clarity of the projection itself, so rear and mid-stage lights were used instead. My hat goes off to the lighting designer and engineers for the best stage lighting I have ever seen at the Thebarton Theatre.
The music itself was equally complex and well designed. Stevens's breathy, whispered vocals giving way to crescendos of synthesisers, electric guitar, and drums in extremely well rehearsed and, indeed, choreographed pieces.
There was no small talk offered during the show other than the very occasional muffled "thank you" at the end of a piece, for this wasn't just another band playing from a set list quickly scribbled out in the Green Room moments before they entered the stage. This was crafted. This was studied and practised to within an inch of its life. This was a ballet.
The quality of production was staggering. The lighting was incredible in its design, placement, colour and accuracy of movement. The audio quality was superb. The mixing allowed the faintest whisper to be clearly heard yet the most soaring crescendo to remain under control.
The musicians themselves were mighty. The electric guitarist played a pedal steel guitar as well as what sounded like an electric mandolin before sitting at the acoustic piano. The keyboard player started off on trombone before his synthesisers and also had a spell at the piano. The drummer/percussionist left his kit for the popular piano stool for a song or two. The acoustic guitar player added vocals as well as doubling on mandola, keyboards and piano. Sufjan Stevens himself played acoustic guitar, mandola, keyboards and piano.
Stevens was certainly amongst friends at the Thebarton Theatre as many members of the almost capacity crowd greeted recognised song introductions with applause. A group of young attendees in the row in front of me were so familiar with the material that they did not need to listen and chatted through most of the performance.
The show was very well constructed but it was not engaging. It was perfectly timed and superbly coordinated but it did not actually touch me. I found myself watching the production rather than the performance.
The tightness of the players began to appear robotic as they moved perfectly on cue into their assigned positions. The meticulously programmed lights sought out Sufjan wherever he positioned himself on stage and swept over the audience when it suited the lyric.
I began to predict in my mind what would happen next; where the players would position themselves and how the lighting would change during the next crescendo and inevitable diminuendo. I realised that I could be watching this show anywhere in the world and that the only difference would be the accent or language of the chatty young people in the row in front of me.
Here is a small sample of Ngaiire's work.
