Maybe it’s no news for you but it is for me. Jon Brion’s show at Largo at The Coronet is the best show in town.
After seven years and change of living in L.A., I finally figured it out last Friday and, as most great things in life, it happened by chance.
We’d been surfing a bit at the end of the day and I was ready to watch Cinema16: British Short Films and chill when Pedro, my fiancé, suggested we go check out Jon Brion’s show. Pedro is a film composer and he’d been curious about it for a while but I wasn’t sure. As a Magnolia and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind fan, I was familiar with Brion’s work as a film composer, but I knew nothing about him as a musician and singer-songwriter and even though I consider myself quite an adventurer, the “experimental” part of his style scared me a bit.
I’m glad Pedro insisted and one hour and fifty dollars later, we both had funny stamps on our hands and smiley faces.
The room was half full when we took our seats, only a few minutes after gate opening. “Good sign”, I thought. The crowd was very eclectic. Another good sign.
We sat for a while and admired the visible stage, framed by heavy, burgundy velvet curtains and hanging dimmed light bulbs, where an array of silent instruments and curious objects anxiously waited with us. About a dozen guitars, a drum set, a weird looking piano (maybe a Chamberlin?) with all kinds of accessories and crowned with a Viking helmet, an organ, a little toy piano (smaller than the one in Punch drunk love), a vibraphone; a couple of little intriguing bouncy-type toy creatures (I don’t really know how to describe them any better) and a wide empty screen. The show hadn’t started yet and we were already dazzled. Definitely a good sign.
Still a few minutes to go and since they don’t sell any alcohol, I got us a delicious berry black tea and a yummy chocolate chip cookie (three dollars each) and I was moved by the original art deco light fixtures on my way back into the room, now almost completely full.
A presenter came up on stage, said we had made the right choice and called him in: the one and only Jon Brion. He came out and I liked him immediately. He looks just like an eleven-year-old boy who’s woken up one day as an adult. He’s tall, thin, a bit shy and very sweet, a total character at first glance. He wore a sand colored summer suit and a dark magenta shirt. His dark rebellious hair covering half his face, he said hello and thanks for being here and then he said, “It’s delightful”. Funny he said that because he’s the one who’s delightful; his delight of merely being there is contagious. He’s a kid in a candy store, about to go bananas. And you know it. You can feel it. He’s elated and it shows.
He sat at the piano and went straight to business, or, better said, straight to play.
Lucky us he gave us an original melodic, warm-up piece.
Then he picked up his guitar and asked what we wanted to hear. Everyone yelled the name of a song. He chose “As time goes by”. He then looped himself on drums, guitar, piano and vocals and created a one man’s band assembly right in front of our eyes.
He made the audience choose again. Someone pitched “Axel F”. He went to the vibraphone. Yes. Wow is right. The man kicked ass improvising the mythical Beverly Cops theme on a vibraphone. He must’ve been pleased himself, since he gave it both fingers once he was done and the crowd cheered.
Then came a piece that should be part of the MOCA permanent collection: A multi-media collage of image and sound. He played a few seconds of a black and white clip of an old style, quite pathetic Cuban salsa band. He cut a piece, then looped it. He recorded some piano and vocals over it. Then a few trippy visual effects started taking place. Then, when you didn’t think it could get any crazier, he started singing a Supertramp song over it. Don’t ask me how but it worked. The whole thing made enormous sense. It was absolutely brilliant.
Another audience choice: “Under pressure”. He picked up his guitar. He said it was the first time he’d ever play it so look out for mistakes. Someone yelled out “no pressure”, he laughed. He thought for a second, a rhetorical question came out loud “how do I do that: tun tun tun tuh ruh ruh ruh”. He announced the style was going to be Lou Reed’s style; the album, one that had come out way before he had moved here; because it’s cool, that’s why. He did it and blew our minds away. I mean, literally.
Then he treated us by scoring a “Felix” cartoon live on the piano.
One more multi-media collage: an atrocious clip of some famous eighties drummer (Iron Butterfly’s drummer) who makes mean faces as he drums away and old B&W footage of two ladies singing a beautiful, peaceful religious hymn a capella as they smoothly swing on a dangling bench. Jon juxtaposed those seemingly irreconcilable clippings, then played and looped a variety of piano specimen and one more time began singing some classic pop song over the mix.
He performed another one man’s band original piece and then said good-bye and left.
As if we were gonna let him.
He came back. Asked the audience one more time and effusively responded to “I want you to want me”. He created all sorts of effects on the piano, organ, mini-piano, vocals and percussive toys. He looped them, mixed them and distorted them. He made his voice come out like an alien choir. A disturbingly gratifying surprise and a proof of his fantastic sense of humor, which made us crack up several times throughout the night.
He then picked up a harmonica with the thingy that goes around the neck so you don’t need your hands to hold it and played an original song with the guitar.
He said thank you and good night.
But we weren’t ready to let him leave yet.
He came back one more time and said: “You made me come back, what is it that you wanna tell me”. And someone screamed: “We love you!!!!”
He asked for one more title. People threw a few. He said “keep them coming” until someone hit the right note. He picked a different guitar and played “Father figure”.
That was his final piece and a grand farewell.
Along with the excitement for having witnessed such a genius display of talent and utmost creativity, a deep sense of emptiness invaded the room. The instruments were silent again and the stage looked so sad without Jon’s vibrant stream of creation.
Jon Brion would be certainly missed. That is, until next Friday, when he comes back to delight us all over again with the best show in town.
WHAT: Jon Brion and friends
WHERE: Largo @ The Coronet
WHY: Because it’s the best show in town
WHEN: Most Friday nights @ 9:30pm
WHO: Jon Brion
HOW much: $25
