I would say Antony and the Johnsons last night at the Disney was one of the best rock concerts I’ve ever seen, except I’m not certain it was a rock concert. Rock elements were in the air. The crowd was younger and artier than the Disney regulars. The music was organized into songs with a (loose) verse/chorus structure, but they were too wayward, or too fragmented, or too simple (repeating one phrase over and over) or too short for rock. Instead of guitars there was a chamber orchestra, playing Nico Muhly’s elegantly restrained arrangements. And above all there was the tone: instead of declamation and getting-down, it was an evening of sighs.
Antony put on a mesmerizing show. It has to be seen to be believed. He has a look and manner that is unique, and is not merely put-on. The impression he gives is of earnest, obsessive child. His earnestness is often alarming to witness. There is not one drop of irony.
He cleverly did the opening number in the dark, focusing attention on his voice, and the painstaking way he crafts the passage of each note to the next. Sometimes it got so intricate that I lost track of the words, though others tell me they didn’t (not that I’m complaining). When the lights turned on he was revealed as a substantial lad, wearing a dress that looked like a child’s drawing of an art nouveau gown. The woman sitting next to me snickered (she had been brought by her friend). Then, when Antony started gesticulating nervously, strangely, intensely, she outright giggled. But by the end of the show she said, “You gotta love him.” Agreed.
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