Three songs into Big Thief’s set last night at the Miami Beach Bandshell, my eyes were already misting at the edges. The song that accomplished this feat was the back-porch Americana of “Certainty,” and it wouldn’t be the last time I became unexpectedly emotional over the next 90 minutes—evidence that this concert’s pleasures were not fleeting, as many are. Many songwriters aim for the soul, and bandleader Adrianne Lenker’s mesmerizing outfit nailed its target by song three.
Witnessing Big Thief on a beautiful beachfront night with a warm and enthusiastic audience of all ages, I was reminded of the genuine agelessness of the group’s music as well. Big Thief’s songs could have sprouted from any era from the 1960s onward. Buttressed by the Bandshell’s excellent acoustics, Lenker’s lyrics were clearer than their studio recordings; as a writer, her songs shift between directness and opacity in a way that can only be described as Dylanesque, while her band conjures the Grateful Dead at its simplest (that’s a compliment)—latching onto a spartan rhythm and carrying it to its natural, beautiful terminus. The fact that I’m only considering eternal music legends when searching for Big Thief’s antecedents is a testament to their timelessness. This will be a band that will be appreciated long after “indie rock” has outworn its generic and cultural identifiers.
Lenker addressed the audience only sparingly, once to accept a portrait of the band painted by a fan; once to request a groaning, food-related pun from the crowd while instruments were being tuned; once to comment on the UFO-like design of the Bandshell’s architecture. (“It feels like we’re playing for an incoming spaceship … we’re the welcoming concert.”) It seems like, even after all these years of touring, Lenker is still not entirely comfortable with the between-song banter of her more polished peers, and I rather liked that about her: Her humility is infectious, and goes hand in hand with Big Thief’s disdain for ostentation—for the bombastic leanings and pandering phrases (“Make some noise, Miami!”) of Rock Concert 101.
This latter point was evident from the outset, when Big Thief opened not with one of its more-explosive numbers but with the quiet sing-along of “Dried Roses,” with guest musician Mat Davidson on fiddle and Max Oleartchick playing standup bass. Between this selection and the following “Blue Lightning” and “Certainty,” the effect was something of a hootenanny. As charismatic and intense as Lenker can be, I equally enjoyed watching drummer James Grivchenia’s Ringo joyfulness as he kept time, a giant grin on his face.
Eventually, Big Thief’s sonic palette expanded, as the set list took the shape of a rough bell curve: plaintive and rustic numbers building toward paroxysms of sound, then settling back into folkier pastures. Those accustomed to the band’s studio choices were delightfully taken aback by these divergent live performances. “Simulation Swarm” seemed, to my ears anyway, slowed down from its familiar groove into a more loping, hypnotic beat that placed a greater emphasis on Lenker’s words. But it was the title track from “Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe in You” that underwent the most noticeable transformation, from delicate dream-poetry to up-tempo rocker, with some of the crunchiest guitar riffs of the night. It segued beautifully into “Contact,” with its coda of death-metal screams primal enough to raise the dead, and then straight into the careening catharsis of “Not,” its ritualistic breakthrough.
“Shark Smile,” with its Springsteen chug-a-lug, began the mellowing, and by the time we had reached the glorious—and humorous—“Spud Infinity,” we were back at the hoedown, complete with a surprise solo on mouth harp from Lenker’s brother Noah. I could rattle off a dozen or more essential Big Thief songs that didn’t make it into the Miami set list, but the show was so perfect I wouldn’t change a thing. All the more reason for the band to return on its next jaunt to play the rest.
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