St. Vincent exhibits dance moves, human side at Stage AE

If there’s one thing that seems out of place on St. Vincent’s “Digital Witness” tour, it’s drummer Matt Johnson’s bass drum.

Eschewing the stark “St. V” logo from the cover of St. Vincent’s self-titled record, his drum sported a lone Jon Stewart-Stephen Colbert bumper sticker, which may or may not have been a souvenir from the band’s recent performance on “The Colbert Report.”

Annie Clark’s fame has been rising exponentially in the last several months with the “Colbert Report” visit, an appearance on “Portlandia” and, most recently, teaming up with Nirvana to perform “Lithium” at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony. So for an act that will, on future tours, likely be playing for much larger crowds than Friday’s indoor Stage AE show, the sticker is an endearing suggestion that maybe this powerful frontwoman and her band are still adjusting to the fame.  

But Clark, or Clark’s dynamic stage persona,  suggests quite the opposite.

In an interview with the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review, Clark adamantly assured that she doesn’t assume a character of any type, but rather finds interest in “exploring all the intricacies of what it is to be human.” But on stage, Clark embodies the traits of a robot, wild animal or marionette.

After keeping an antsy crowd waiting for nearly 45 minutes following instrumental ambient guitarist Noveller, Clark zipped around the stage in a blood-spattered white dress, cocking her head back and forth and running in place, mirroring the lines “Running, running, running, rattle behind me,” for a rousing performance of “Rattlesnake.”

Most of Clark’s songs, at least from her latest album, are propelled by this zany, bouncy energy, which she matches with highly choreographed performances in her live shows. For “Birth In Reverse,” Clark and keyboardist Toko Yasuda alternately fluttered from the front to the back of the stage in a synchronized marionette dance. To match the explosive tribal drumbeat of “Year of the Tiger,” Clark made claws of her hands and marched with high knee-kicks. But unlike many 21st century pop stars, dance and physicality weren’t the only sources for dazzle.

In addition to pitch-perfect and emotive vocals, which are far too easily taken for granted, Clark proved that she’s an eccentric guitar shredder, first and foremost. She tore through the throttling riffs of “Regret” and “Surgeon,” with an authority and confidence that made the minimalism and quiet intricacy of their solos all the more impressive. On record, an Annie Clark guitar solo is rarely flashy, but in a live setting, it squeals, doubles in length and blows apart the lush calm before the storm.

One such hurricane, the solo of album Strange Mercy’s “Northern Lights,” had a minor hiccup when Yasuda’s theremin, the backbone of the song’s chaos, wasn’t coming through over the monitor. Clark proceeded as normal and brought the shredding up to Johnson’s drum platform, ignoring the absence of chaos.

After Clark collapsed and rolled around for an erratic performance of “Krokodil” to close out the main set, she reemerged in a black dress and jacket with massive shoulder pads for a chilling encore.

From atop a towering three-step platform, Clark stood alone with her guitar, illuminated by a single spotlight, and belted out her best song, “Strange Mercy.”

Much like the album version, the performance was an arresting and emotionally direct rendition of a song with lyrics that avoid easy resolution. When Clark resolutely proclaims, “If I ever meet the dirty policeman who roughed you up,” her conviction renders the particulars meaningless. And the underscoring of the whole song by gorgeous arpeggios, coos and hums to fill in the band’s absence made it the show’s most transcendent four minutes.

Just for a moment, Clark abandoned the wild dance moves, guitar virtuosity and distant expressions to assertively remind the crowd that, yes, she is human.