Grand Canal Theatre, Dublin
Five years ago he was lonely, miserable, wet and cold in a log cabin in or around Wisconsin. Bereft of hope and spirit, and without a partner or friend of any notable kind, Bon Iver, aka Justin Vernon, fashioned a debut album ( For Emma, Forever Ago) that was justifiably praised for its pared-down sense of despondency and disconnect. Now? Well, now Vernon is mates with the likes of Neil Young and Kanye West, is basking in international success (enhanced by this year's follow-up album, Bon Iver), and touring with a band so sizeable it would have made living in that Wisconsin log cabin claustrophobic in the extreme.
Other things have changed, too: Vernon wants to make some noise. And so gone, to a surprising degree, are the whisper-quiet songs that made him so endearing in the first instance.
In their place is a nine-piece band of consummate musicians that make music reminiscent of so many tiresome prog-rock/ avant-garde/math-rock fusions we have heard down the years. In short, Vernon has found solace, comfort and joy in messing around with his art, and we’re happy for him – he’s suffered for it, but now it’s our turn.
Unfair? Perhaps, but there was something about all the self-conscious noodling that went on (a quick rule of thumb: never trust a guitarist who hunches for ages over his effects boxes), the use of two drummers, the occasionally digitised vocals (a la Laurie Anderson), the music-as-mayhem freakouts and unwieldy, opaque instrumentation that brought to mind This Is Spinal Tapas directed by a misguided film student.
There were, thankfully, some sublime moments: Vernon's often beautiful falsetto, songs such as Calgary, For Emma, and the cathartic encore of The Wolves (Act 1 and II). Small change, mind, from a heavy payout.
