Seeing the Autumn Defense, Nels Cline and Eucademix at a home in Wynnewood, Pa., two days after their show at Ardmore Music Hall wasn’t just a change of scenery, it was a reset of headspace.
For one thing, the seated configuration enabled close listening; for another, experiencing the passing of the afternoon through the windows behind the performers contributed to the feeling that we’re sharing this finite time together, whether or not we acknowledge our connection.
Perhaps most rewarding was the opportunity to see and talk to people—a privilege I can’t take for granted again. It’s a lovely thing, taking the time to spend a few moments with acquaintances I haven’t seen since before the pandemic, chatting with folks whose names I know from social media, listening in as artists catch one another up on their latest endeavors, acknowledging a sort of sense of community with people I usually only glimpse in loud, crowded bars and music halls.
Through the serendipity of scheduling, this house show came near the end of a week-plus of concerts that attracted overlapping fan bases—Patterson Hood, Big Star, Strand Of Oaks, and Bonny Light Horseman, in addition to the Wilco side projects that brought us to Wynnewood—and the extra familiarity of seeing certain faces a few days in a row added to the special feeling.
On the downside, there’s the awkwardness of being confined to a small space with people who’ve made clear they don’t want to see you and no place to go but outside to escape the disappointment of being shunned, whether intentionally or gradually or because when our world got smaller, you became a speck in the ring left around the drain, just a bit of debris unworthy or incapable of being relinked to the chain of friends and acquaintances and neighbors once it reformed.
As for the music, it was the same and it was different—fitting for the occasion.
The Autumn Defense beautifully reprised many of the songs they’d played at Ardmore Music Hall, including “This Thing That I’ve Found,” “We Would Never Die” and “Feel You Now,” adding just one number, “City Bells,” which felt just right.
Eucademix explored nearly identical sonic terrain—nature, machinery and the human voice—but watching Yuka C. Honda’s fingers as she coaxed those sounds from several arrays of buttons and keys, with the visual accompaniment of squirrels frolicking in the yard replacing the meditative film she brought to Ardmore, moved the center of gravity from the head to the heart.
Nels Cline and bassist Chris Lightcap wowed the crowd with pieces by Ornette Coleman and Ron Carter, and if my brain is missing whatever component is required to appreciate jazz, I still enjoyed watching Honda join the duo to add bleeps and bloops to their Gal Acosta tribute.
Singer/songwriter Noah Silvestry opened the show with three hyperverbal tunes, winning the room over with equal parts self-confidence, self-awareness and self-deprecation.
—M.J. Fine; photos by Chris Sikich
