Of Montreal Lets Bitterness and Joy Coexist at Cannery Hall

Since they emerged in the ’90s from Elephant 6, the same sprawling rock collective we have to thank for Neutral Milk Hotel, Of Montreal has been emblematic of a certain kind of maximalist quirk. One 2009 entry in our live-review column The Spin calls them “psychedelic sex fiends.” Another, uncovered by Scene writer Julianne Akers from the depths of 2011, calls them “hyper-sexualized pop androgyny straight out of Athens, Ga.”

This is a band that is stranger and darker than all the Technicolor suggests, though. “Wraith Pinned to the Mist (and Other Games)” from their 2005 album The Sunlandic Twins might be many people’s first exposure to Of Montreal — with a little thanks to Outback Steakhouse, naturally. But on the same record, frontperson Kevin Barnes imagines the effects of a grisly tide of fascism (sound familiar?) in the anthemic “Forecast Fascist Future.” On “I Was Never Young,” Barnes repeats the line “Ever since I was a kid, I've been a brooding basket case” into absurdity, taking the twee hallmark of singsongy contrast to new heights.

At The Mil at Cannery Hall Tuesday night, that strangeness was foregrounded by a shapeshifting bill. First, Nashville native Nordista Freeze took the stage for a solo set, trading his typical experimental pop for mellow, acoustic guitar picking. He told a story about seeing Of Montreal in the same room years ago and being accosted by security for trying to crowdsurf. Freeze also handled an audience member’s sudden fall like a champ, pausing the set to chat with the crowd and lie back and look at the ceiling. After the all-clear came through, he brought special guests Sunshine Scott, Crumbsnatchers’ Samuel “Guetts” Guetterman and Future Crib’s Bryce Dubray onstage for a gorgeous stripped-down take on his 2021 release “Wysteria,” as well as a charming cover of The Beach Boys’ “Don’t Worry Baby.”

The vibe shifted when theatrical chamber-noise band Sloppy Jane took over. As “Blue Velvet” played behind them, the group set up two violins, a flute and a cello, and the band’s mastermind Haley Dahl stepped out in fishnets and a blue tailcoat to start the set by conducting the ensemble to produce a round of discordant, off-kilter sound. A wall of noise followed. Sloppy Jane’s act is a bit like PJ Harvey meets Alice in Wonderland, and between pummeling forthcoming releases and churning favorites from the band’s 2021 album Madison, their I Saw the TV Glow soundtrack feature “Claw Machine” provided a moment of calm. With a fresh set of electric-blue makeup tear tracks running down her cheeks, Dahl had the room wrapped around her finger. At one point, she silenced a whoop from an audience member with a single swift hand motion, and later she caressed another’s face after crawling into the crowd. At the end of the set, she led everyone in a “New Year’s in July” countdown, confessing she loves the “free pass” the holiday offers and screaming, “Is this going to be our year?”

An Of Montreal set is a true audiovisual experience, and their headline performance began with a projection of the artwork for Aethermead, the album the group released in June, plus a massive sculpture of the one-eyed creature at its center. The Mil crowd was packed with members of Of Montreal’s thriving cult fanbase who knew every lyric, from the new album all the way back to their 1997 debut Cherry Peel. The marathon set ran the gamut of that decades-spanning discography, complete with psychedelic onscreen visuals and backup dancers dressed in high-concept costumes.

These songs feel somehow edgier live — like the bitterness in them ironically has more space to shine among all the lights and zany antics. Aethermead’s “Already Dreaming” is really a pretty biting number about a decaying relationship, and the quippy Knoxville sendup in Aureate Gloom’s “Empyrean Abattoir" has even more teeth when you’re hearing it performed in Nashville. Barnes’ charisma and stage presence created a truly dynamic set, constantly moving and changing and inspiring the whole crowd to dance. They led a cover of “Tennessee Waltz” that found them waltzing onstage with robed skeletons before it spun out directly into a performance of “Bunny Ain’t No Kind of Rider,” complete with droll pointing and finger wags that accentuated the song’s camp lyrics. “Triumph of Disintegration,” meanwhile, ripped with gnarly frustration, especially paired with the sweetness of “Peace to All Freaks.”

Of Montreal excels at letting that bitterness coexist with joy — as Barnes declared onstage during “Take the Form,” “If I can do no harm, then I can do no good.” It’s a symbiotic duality: Dancing helps us to process our pain, and tumult makes humor feel all the more precious. During the epic closer "Nonpareil of Favor,” keyboardist JoJo Glidewell’s voice called out through a haze of sound and flashing lights. “I couldn’t fall asleep, so I punished myself,” Barnes confessed to an ecstatic audience, as the band harmonized behind them. It was strange and funny and cathartic — the perfect distillation of a decidedly trippy Tuesday evening.

Nashville Music News | Nashville Scene

Of Montreal at Mercy Lounge