Review: Sylvan Esso at Rabbit Rabbit
Heading into Rabbit Rabbit on June 14 to see electro-pop duo Sylvan Esso, I half wondered if I’d accidentally wandered into a casting call for Portlandia extras. Surrounded by hipsters with bangs short enough to make Joan of Arc proud, enough flannel and ironic T-shirts to drown a small city, and an army of microbrewers (or people that just looked the part), the dedication of these folks suddenly made me nervous about my obliviousness to the band and its lore.
So as opening act GRRL jockeyed his discs, I twiddled my thumbs and over-thought my lack of pre-listening while looking into Sylvan Esso’s Wikipedia page. My previous knowledge of the band is that they were Durham sweethearts that leaned into folktronica, but as my phone slowly loaded, I realized they were much much more than that. Jimmy Fallon appearances, Grammy nominations, NPR’s music showcase, music in Animal Crossing — their list of achievements stretched far beyond what I’d expected. And just as I realized what an impact this duo had, they stepped out on stage about 20 feet in front of me.
One thing I really appreciate about Rabbit Rabbit is its location — out in the open, right on the edge of downtown — and oftentimes, in the spaces between openers and interludes during shows, I like to imagine what passerby could be thinking as they stroll down Cox Avenue. This thought was at the forefront of my mind as vocalist Amelia Meath and synth wizard Nick Sanborn took over the stage: the sort of alien lullaby that emerged from the pair as they launched into “Alarm” must have been a true surprise to outsiders.
But those beyond the venue’s walls missed out on one important detail: the duo’s instantly infectious stage presence. The combination of Meath’s ear-to-ear smile and Sanborn’s sporadic dance moves around his boards seemed to possess the crowd as bodies erupted with movement. It was nearly impossible not to dance, and people didn’t hold back. The music quickly engulfed the whole of the venue, and there seemed to be an electronica-induced feeling of community. It’s cheesy, I know — but as we all partook in the tension before the bass drop, I felt myself assimilating into the hipster gathering I felt so out of place in just a little while before.
Meath donned a two piece latex body suit that would occasionally catch a glint of the colorful flashing lights as she leapt across the stage, her movements impressively in sync with the increasingly layered synths. The duo mostly stuck to playing songs off their most recent album, No Rules Sandy, that was released a little less than a year ago, but they jumped around their discography and at one point even gifted a riveting cover of “Happy Birthday” to some lucky fan. Admittedly, much of their set sounded pretty similar, following a pattern of build up and bass drop we’ve come to expect from EDM, but it was enjoyable nonetheless.
As the show continued and the sun set, the overall energy seemed to dial back. People slipped away and returned with drinks in hand, and Sylvan Esso moved into some of their slower songs until Meath suddenly left the stage, leaving Sanborn to lay down some steady layers of sound. Then she returned, dressed as what I can best describe as a loofa — the sheer volume of her dress nearly consuming her from her head to just below her knees.
The crowd went wild, as anyone would when seeing a rainbow loofa dress, and as soon as she arrived, the familiar notes opening of “Radio,” one of the group’s biggest hits, wafted through the speakers. Between the dress and the insanely catchy melody of the song, the crowd became completely re-invigorated — bordering on feral. This excitement seeped into the remainder of the set as Sylvan Esso wrapped things up with “Echo Party” — a song Meath introduced by dubbing it “one of the weirder ones.”
After the duo left the stage, the audience didn’t budge. The chance of an encore was prioritized over the chance at one last drink or avoiding the inevitable crowded exit. And we were not disappointed. The flashing lights toned down to solid colors as the devotees quieted, and Meath (notably sans loofa dress) and Sanborn stepped out together, an acoustic guitar in his hands. They took a second for the audience to settle before beginning to play “Coming Back to You,” a beautiful, bittersweet ballad of relationship, love, and growth. At this point in the show, with a rapt audience accompanied by a dark sky, Meath’s vocals and Sanborn’s steady strumming drew a vulnerability to the surface of the crowd that had up to that point been hidden by heavy bass drops and glaring lights.
This tenderness was carried into the show’s true final song, “Make It Easy,” a perfect tune to wish an audience goodnight. As the crowd dispersed, I took my time making my way back to my car, watching as the people around me navigated their way out of the venue, still humming Sylvan Esso’s hits. I’d gone into the concert ill-prepared for the near theatrical performances and the sheer force of the band’s sound, but I left with a new name on my dance party playlist and a re-invigorated appreciation for this emerging wave of electronic music.
(Photos by Justin Bowman)
GRRL
