Jane Siberry at the Coach House - My Review

[ei955@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Joel Siegfried)]

Dear Kate Fans,

I thought you might enjoy this post about my recent Jane Siberry
concert experience. 

Cheers,

Joel
joels@cts.com


                Sweet Jane and Her Amazing Coat of Many Covers


     On Tuesday, November 14th, between concerts of Sky Cries Mary, Jewel
     and Dar Williams I went see Jane Siberry perform at The Coach House
     in San Juan Capistrano.

     The sun was low in the sky as we drove north on I-5, and there was a
     chill in air which caused me to pull over to put up the convertible
     top. I thought back to a more perfect October afternoon last year
     when I made the same trip to catch Sara Hickman perform. Dreamy
     images of what it was like to drive the Coast Highway in the '30s
     went through my mind then, as I watched the palm trees stream by in
     a blur. This time I was thinking about synchronicity. At a Milla
     concert downtown at the Hahn Theater, the person in the seat in
     front of me had turned and asked if I had ever heard of Jane
     Siberry. I had to admit that I wasn't familiar with her music. "Go
     and buy When I Was a Boy", he said. "You won't regret it." He was
     right. That album, and her other CDs, created in me that mystical
     bond between artist and fan. Now we would get to hear her magic
     performed live! We were starting to feel mellow and at peace with
     the world already.

     Soon we arrived at The Coach House (where Tori had played on
     September 5th, 1992). It is right  behind the San Juan Tire Company,
     hidden from the road. If you didn't have directions, you'd never
     find it. But it is perhaps the premier venue for talent in Orange
     County, and arguably all of Southern California, situated half-way
     between L.A., San Diego and Riverside, no more than an hour's drive
     for 14 million people. After collecting our tickets from will-call,
     we had a chance to explore the facility. A long bar runs the length
     of the back wall, opposite a large, elevated stage at the front of
     the room. There are narrow balconies to the left and rear, decorated
     with a drum set, a bunch of old speakers, and a red roadster --
     perhaps a 1953 Austin Healey. Long tables radiated outward from the
     stage, in parallel rows. The back of the room had smaller tables,
     and as best as I could reckon, seating capacity was about 440.
     Photographs of talent who have appeared here line the walls; I only
     wished for more time to examine all of them. Instead we took seats
     at the very back, and with the kind permissison of the house staff,
     we were able to listen to Siberry and her band do their sound
     checks. As she walked past, I nodded "hello". She smiled back.

     How tiny she looked. Perhaps just under a hundred pounds, blond hair
     pulled back into a bunched knob at the nape of her neck, delicate
     child-like hands, her fair skin contrasted with her black pullover
     and slacks. She could have been a model for those fragile China
     dolls that people collect. But Jane is anything but fragile.
     Graceful, elegant, waif-like, her voice is clear as crystal, her
     stage presence riveting and commanding. At the moment she was
     playfully chatting with her side men, which included Tim Ray on
     piano, formerly with a Boston ensemble called Orange Then Blue,
     trumpeter David Travers-Smith, bassist Christopher Thomas who looked
     to me like a big teddy bear in long dreadlocks, and drummer Brian
     Blade who had played in Joshua Redman's band.

     Jane opened her practice with snatches of Moon River segwaying into
     In America and Maria. Her sound check lasted about 45 minutes. She
     fluttered about the stage belting out cuts from several of her nine
     albums, but favored her most recent CD, "Maria", with the majority
     of rehersal songs, including Oh, My My, which turned out to be a
     rare treat as she did not perform it later in concert. A number of
     covers of other artist's music were interwoven. Near the end, she
     picked up her holly-strapped guitar from its stand at stage left,
     and strummed a few bars. When she was done, she stopped to chat with
     someone at the soundboard, then disappeared upstairs.

     My friend and I waited outside by the ticket window, talking with
     the woman inside the booth about memorable performances she had
     seen, and favorite female vocalists. Kate Bush and Mazzy Star were
     high on her list. Soon we were ushered inside and seated at a table
     to the right of center, just an arm's length away from where Jane
     would be performing. Our binoculars would be useless that night! A
     waitress appreared, told us her name was Renee, and took our orders.
     White Zinfandel, sauteed mushrooms, house salads, teriyaki chicken,
     veggie plate with baked potato. The food was excellent, but the wine
     had no chance of winning any medals, except maybe the Purple Heart,
     so I opted for a Drambuie when it came time for a refill. My friend
     recognized several people at nearby tables. One was Paul Mallet from
     Queens University in Canada, who maintains a World Wide Web page on
     the Internet with a wealth of information about Jane and her music.

     At about 8:00 pm, an acoustic guitarist named Paul Bernadou took the
     stage. Despite an auto accident on Pico Boulevard in L.A., which
     caused him to miss his soundcheck, he seemed at ease and mellow.
     Dressed in a white shirt and dark trousers, he mixed comments and
     chatter with ballads about relationships, love gone awry, changes
     and loss. The dinner audience was polite and appreciative. His set
     ended about 40 minutes later. We had time for coffee and dessert
     before Jane walked on.

     When she was finally announced around 9:15 pm, the audience of about
     260 broke into applause and spirited cheers. Jane was wearing a
     wireless microphone, a black short-sleeved blouse with fourteen
     snaps down the front, midnight blue velour pants, black 2-inch
     pumps, and no jewelry except for a gold Star of David pendant with a
     circle of rhinestones or diamond chips at its center, hanging from a
     very thin gold chain. A tiny gold stud was pierced through her right
     nostril, midway down her nose and barely visible. The strap of a
     lavender half-slip could be seen occasionally falling off to the
     right. To my disappointment, her blond hair was still pinned up in a
     knot at the back of her neck. Her nails were painted pink, but there
     was little makeup on her face. She nodded to the crowd. Then the
     magic began.

     As in rehersal, she opened with Moon River and the medley I had
     heard earlier. Immediately, I was enchanted by her pure voice and
     graceful body movements. Her tiny fingers caressed the air
     playfully. She seemed languid, wistful, totally relaxed, mischievous
     and impish, feminine yet also androgenous. There was an immediate
     contact between us when I applauded wildly and she nodded back. But
     everyone in the audience must have felt connected with her. She fed
     off of this energy, generously returning it many times over. Between
     songs, she would stop and chat, asking if people knew what to expect
     from her, saying that she tried to make every show unique. It was
     like the "Happenings" of Alan Kaprow I had attended while in
     college. She played off the crowd as well as to it, improvising,
     walking the line between spontaneity and ready-to-wear. Influenced
     perhaps by performance artists like Laurie Anderson, it was also
     Jane's form of Symmetry -- from her tongue-in-cheek song about a
     perfect universal balance. And it was the essence of jazz, where
     performers challenged each other to reach new heights.

     Taken from her set list and my notes, here is what she sang:

     Moon River
     America
     Maria
     Caravan
     Ooh, Child
     Lovin' Cup
     My Mother
     Abraham, Martin & John
     Sticks 'n Stones
     Chelsea Morning
     Girl From Ipenema
     See the Child
     Honey Bee
     Nature Boy
     Would You Go?
     Mary Had A Little Lamb (medley)
     Begat Begat

     1st Encore:
     ----------

     My Favorite Things
     Love Is Everything
     Oh, Shanendoah
     Moon River

     2nd Encore
     ----------

     Questions
     Calling All Angels

     Several of the numbers, including Girl From Ipanema and the nursery
     rhyme medley showcased the talents of individual band members, from
     Tim Ray's elegant piano backings and breath-taking break-outs, David
     Travers-Smith's soulful trumpet riffs, Chris Thomas's mellow bass,
     and the wonderously subtle artistry of Brian Blade on drums. In
     "Ipanema" each musician tried to entice Jane with his instrument;
     only Brian commented that he didn't find her attractive as he
     brushed his cymbals in a muted whisper! With each one, Jane was
     generous and loving.

     And she was the same with her audiance. At the start of her second
     encore, she asked if anyone had any questions? Someone asked what
     was her favorite color, more profound than it sounded because colors
     are mentioned throughout her lyrics. She thought a moment, then said
     looking towards a bouquet of roses in a vase off to her left,
     "Tonight it must be yellow." Then a question tumbled from my mouth.
     "What performer would you most like to meet?" She mused aloud that
     meeting Neil Young had been so exciting, then said to me, "Sorry, I
     can't think of anyone. How about you?" I pondered, then said, "After
     you, Joni Mitchell." She said that she had smiled for a long time
     after meeting Joni. A man asked her where had she been all his life?
     "Not on the radio.", was her playful reply. Then she said that she
     could not take any more from her audience - they had given her
     enough! With that she sang "Calling All Angels." Maybe it was the
     way she did it, with such intensity and beauty, or the fact that the
     incantation of angel's names is so powerful and moving, and her line

                          "walk me through this one
                            don't leave me alone"

     resonates deeply within me, but I started to cry softly, grateful
     for the darkness, moved beyond all expectations, and so very happy.
     Then it was over. She had performed for over two hours. She would
     not be returning to the stage.

     Drained, satified, and basking in a warm afterglow we sat there
     talking softly, not wanting to leave. When we finally gathered
     enough energy to will ourselves toward the exit, there stood Jane
     like a beautiful apparition. She had changed into an elegant black
     evening dress. As I approached, her assistant Kathleen unpinned her
     hair and let it tumble over her shoulders. I blurted out that I
     hoped her hair would come down all evening. Then introducing myself,
     thanked her, and said that I was almost at a loss for words because
     her performance had just blown me away. She thanked me for radiating
     all that energy toward her when she was on stage. I knew that she
     had noticed! Almost desparate to give her something tangible to take
     away with her, I reached into my concert pouch, and next to the
     binoculars found a miniature bottle of Drambuie which I handed to
     her with a question, "Will you let me give you a night cap?" She
     smiled and answered. "I won't drink this, but would you mind if I
     gave it to a friend who would enjoy it?" I told her I would be
     honored. Then after my friend had said some words of appreciation
     also, it was time to leave.

     Once I had asked a friend, who is a scientist, if she thought we
     were made of electrons. Borrowing on a quote of Muriel Rukeyser, she
     replied "No, we are made of stories, not electrons."

     Well, I just hope my life is filled with more stories like this one.

                               -=END=-

---------

     For those with World Wide Web access, the address of Paul Mallet's
     page on Jane Siberry is:

            http://malletp.psyc.queensu.ca/siberry/siberry.htm

     There is also a mailing list on the Internet for Siberry fans called
     Siblings. To subscribe send an e-mail message to:

                       siblings-request@smoe.org

     with the word subscribe in the body of your message.