Trevor Powers, the artist behind Youth Lagoon, made a stop at August Hall in San Francisco on Tuesday, April 8, as part of his Rarely Do I Dream album tour, his fifth album under the project moniker released earlier this year in February. It was my first time at August Hall, a venue tucked away in a quiet block of Mason Street, despite being deep in the madness around Union Square. Outside, an Art Deco-style marquee jutted out the bottom of a tall brick building. Inside, the Art Deco theme continued, more faithful to the venue’s iteration as a USO dance hall in the 1940s than its roots as a Gilded Age playhouse when it was first built in the 1890s. The concert hall itself felt cozy and intimate, though the size of the room underplayed just how many showgoers it could squeeze in. Stained glass portraits of who I can only assume to be turn-of-the-century San Franciscans lined the walls of the mezzanine, which was unfortunately cordoned off for the night.
Valley James opened the show, coming onto the stage wearing a black velvet and lace gown, her long, wavy red hair a stark contrast to the saturated blue lights that created an aura of mystique and solemnity. The large black hollow-body guitar she had at hand hinted at songs and stories steeped in country noir. She strummed a chord, and a sonorous warmth filled the concert hall. She started singing, and her voice’s deep, emotional tone embodied the melancholic Americana her lyrics conveyed. James’ vocal style was like a hybrid of Lana Del Rey’s rich, tragicromantic aesthetics, but with the power and country affectations of Emmylou Harris. It was no surprise that, while pausing her performance for some banter with the audience, she paid tribute to the late auteur David Lynch. Watching her on stage was like being witness to a performance at a nightclub in the Lynchian Cinematic Universe.
After a brief intermission, voices from tape recordings played over the speakers. Powers stepped onto the stage, accompanied by two musicians who would take on multiple instrument duties throughout the night. The tape recordings came from his childhood home videos that ultimately became the inspiration for Rarely Do I Dream. As such, many of the album’s songs touched upon scenes, characters, and experiences from his youth spent in rural Idaho.
Powers served as a kind of spiritual taproot to the audience when playing these songs, and the audience was a ready receptacle for his soul-baring performance. The very intimate sources of his compositions were apparent in the pain and love — and pained love — palpable in his singing. The lyrics of “Neighborhood Scene” suggested a sense of un-belonging, while “Speed Freak” related the feeling of needing to escape. The instrumentation made those abstract feelings tangible. When Powers played the keyboard as a digital piano, the weighty sound and percussiveness of the keys grounded the music and gave it a pulse. When Powers employed more gnarly, grungy synths, he painted vivid scenes of frustration and internal turmoil. Powers also explored the opposite end of the sonic spectrum, his more delicate tones evoking dreamlike recollections. Powers’ vocals floated on top — light, vulnerable, and sensitive.
Powers took the time to talk and connect with the audience outside of his songs. One moment I found particularly endearing: when introducing “Seersucker,” Powers recounted an unfortunate coincidence at a previous concert where his keyboard malfunctioned right as he was singing the lyrics, “When the old piano broke.” The crowd laughed and groaned along. For a night, Powers invited us deeper into his story and inner world.
Review by Janine Bedon
