Feist puts tribute in focus
The singer-songwriter was one of many performers to honor WXPN's World Cafe show for 20 years of giving acts airplay.
Musicians offered plenty of perspective about Philadelphia's top radio export as WXPN's World Cafe program celebrated its 20th anniversary at the World Cafe Live over the weekend.
Various artists who have particularly benefited from airplay "on the Cafe" (as genial host David Dye is wont to say) performed at the W.C.L. The venue is independent, but not unrelated to its namesake radio show, which is produced in the Walnut Street building the club shares with the music-oriented National Public Radio station.
Of all the acts gigging in nominal tribute, Saturday's headliner, Feist, put all things in their best light. And not just via her star power, as an artist who now packs far larger halls, such as the Academy of Music here in 2008, but who returned to play for a few hundred folks.
The Nova Scotia-born, Calgary-raised, and Toronto-based Leslie Feist, 35, is simply one of the most alluring performers extant and an example of artistic growth (both her own and the World Cafe's, which, early on, would more likely have showcased the brittle-voiced affectations of a Natalie Merchant as part of its milquetoast-y programming aesthetic).
Feist sparkled through 75 minutes, beginning a North American tour for her superb fourth studio album, Metals, backed by the four-man Valley Men plus a female vocal trio known collectively as Mountain Man.
Poised and laughing off any possible mistakes "live on the radio" as WXPN was simulcasting, she gave rearranged readings of older songs, such as 2004's "Mushaboom" and "My Moon My Man" (from 2007's The Reminder, which also spawned her Grammy-nominated hit "1234" - not played Saturday).
New material shone just as brightly, including the riveting Metals bonus track, "Pine Moon."
Often the only guitarist playing, the elegantly earthy Canadian drove things with her vigorous, rhythmic up-plucks and riff-strumming while squeezing out melodic progressions, her long, straight, black hair jerking in time as calf muscles visibly tensed under dark stockings. Her singular voice pierced and sweetly fluttered along, her face contorting for the sharper notes.
It presented a facial contrast to Taylor Goldsmith's over-dramatic visage whenever the singer-guitarist for Los Angeles openers Dawes took a solo.
London's Mumford & Sons, a surprise bill addition, later emerged to join the Angelenos for some fine eight-man, transatlantic harmony on Dawes' "When My Time Comes."