Symbolism alluding to the themes which pervade Phoenix singer-songwriter Courtney Marie Andrew’s 9th studio album Valentine – released just last month – bedeck tonight’s stage; there are three heart-shaped balloons, triple swells of pink lighting, and a series of dove figurines adorning microphone stands. As the evening transpires, there are a few clues to indicate that, in addition to the more typical notions of romantic love, the new record is one to celebrate that love, in the universal sense of the word, is a necessary – if not the only – salve in a continually troubled world.
Indeed, tonight’s third track ‘Cons & Clowns’ says a lot about our current moment, certainly vis-a-vie the political landscape of Andrews’ homeland: “It’s a scary world full of cons and clowns/Lot of bad people who will tear you down.” However, the wider lyrical message – via the rare sighting of Andrews’ two flute solos and the beautiful, fingerpicked reverb of guitarist Jerry Bernhardt – suggest that something of an antidote lies in beautifying one’s own corner of the world (“Lavendar, a stranger’s garden/Morning breath, kissing on the carpet.”)
The new tunes reveal that Andrews’ songwriting is in fine shape, as are her outstanding vocal abilities. ‘Pendulum Swing’, which has oscillating momentum shifts in sync with its titular self, opens up with Andrews’ delivering a large and dynamically lythe falsetto. Meanwhile, Andrews executes the skipping melody of ‘Keeper’ with an elasticity that morphs instantaneously from high-pitched mini yelps to cooing harmony parts.
Having been there to witness Andrews’ last Bristol appearance in 2023, the sighting of Bernhardt – a guitarist, mainly, who produces both devastating tone and undistracting economy – is a welcome one. During ‘Magic Touch’, for instance, he produces weeping octaves from his blonde Epiphone that somehow sound exactly like pedal steel. However, he also does a decent sideline on keys as both he and Andrews sit at keyboards for ‘Little Picture of a Butterfly.’ Droning, romantically swelling keyboard chords, backed by light cymbal crashes, evolve into a formidably rousing ballad.
Bernhardt’s usually reliable sonics are, however, temporarily derailed by technical difficulties which, we soon learn, are the product of a faulty cable. Andrews, not fancying herself as a humorous enough to ably fill the hiatus says “We don’t wanna get to the point where I’m telling jokes.” Then, observing the exchange of cables between Bernhardt and bassist Zachary Taylor, drummer Matt Carroll provides a nicely timed “This is why I play the drums.”
Completing the album sequence, ‘Best Friend’ is a powerful moment in that Andrews is yearning for, rather than celebrating, the existence of a closest companion, and ‘Hangman’ sees Bernhardt momentarily struggling with more feedback issues before brilliantly rallying with a polished, vibrato-heavy solo.
Though the crowd are certainly appreciative with their post-song whistles and applause, the venue is strangely silent during interim moments where Andrews and Bernhardt retune their guitars. “It’s so quiet”, Andrews whispers into the mic at one point, and the sound of a dropped plastic tumbler later on sounds impossibly loud in a decently populated gig room.
Andrews informs us that ‘Not The End’ was released ten years ago this August, and it sees her in the more traditional mode of fingerpicked acoustic folk, though Bernhardt’s electronic embellishments wonderfully sound like the guitar is responding with a weeping dialogue. ‘Break The Spell’ is in similar vein, a la classic Laura Marling-esque folk, with more pretty guitar picking and fret traversing chord shapes.
Appearing toward the end of the night’s performance, ‘If I Told You,’ is prefaced with Andrews casting her thoughts on Valentine. She references that we live in a “dark world” and that the album was written “for love, about love” and that it is about giving “love to your family and friends, we need more of that.” The song itself provides another moment for Andrews’ vocals to shine; she adroitly nails a yelping chorus motif and delivers some velvety harmony parts as she moves slightly off mic.
Andrews returns without her band for a two song encore wherein a couple of tune-requesting heckles see her in spontaneous agreement to deliver both. The sardonic lament of ‘How Quickly Your Heart Mends’ is, despite Andrews’ warning that she hadn’t played it in perhaps 12 months, a flawless rendition. Finally, ‘Irene’ is further evidence that, sometimes, an acoustic guitar and a voice is all you need. Well, certainly if your voice is as good as that of Courtney Marie Andrews.
Scott Hammond
