The Decemberists at The Royal Festival Hall, Waterloo - 2nd October 2007

Tonight’s sold out show at Waterloo’s Royal Festival Hall at first appears to be a strange selection of venue for a band used to playing clubs and theatres on a much more intimate scale. Especially when considering the band have decided not to bring the full blown orchestra that accompanied them on their previous summer’s US tour jaunt.

But all soon becomes clear, the venue, usually used for opera and classical concerts, has superb, crisp, pin-point acoustics and the band take full advantage of them. They sound like a much larger band, with each member playing a diverse array of unorthodox, whimsical instruments. We realise instantly the Decemberists are more than capable of playing concerts of this size.

The set predominantly featured songs from last year’s ‘The Crane Wife’. The album was written as a story, based on an old Japanese folk tale, about a man who puts his own greed before a loved one and eventually receives his comeuppance. The music on display is just as adventurous and compelling, with an extensive arsenal of instruments at their disposal including accordions, a harpsichord, a stand up bass, glockenspiels, mandolins, violins, bongos and other unusual percussion pieces.

A highlight came during the ambitious three parter ‘The Island’ which is a twelve minute musical explosion which tears through genre barriers effortlessly. The song travels from soft, gentle folk to frantic psychedelia to pop rock indie fun and everywhere in between. It began to feel like an intimate jam, with the group playing extended, epic versions of each song and merging them without pausing in-between easily and with precision and skill.



‘O’ Valencia’ the only single to be released from the new record thus far, is melodic, sharp and snappy, lyrically it’s dark and despondent, the chorus ‘Oh Valencia/With your blood still warm on the ground/And I swear to the stars/I’ll burn this whole city down’ is sung warmly and melancholically though, with almost Morrisey-esque sarcasm.

The band seemed to be uncharacteristically nervous through some of the set and unsure how to handle a fully seated audience. I would have loved to break the mould and in turn encourage others to do so, but sadly lacked the courage to stand alone and stick out like a sore thumb in a crowd full of judgemental industry types.

It’s during the encore though where the band completely come out of their slightly gypsy, nineteenth century shell and we realise that the audience’s participation definitely correlates with the bands. The best is saved for last’s playing their biggest hit to date named ‘The Mariner’s Revenge Song’ from the 2005 record ‘Picaresque’. The song is a ten minute epic following the story of a man avenging his dead father who was swallowed by a whale at sea, twenty years later he goes out on a ship searching for the same said whale. This is where the theatrics really take off, with all five band members, swaying in motion, are grouped in front centre stage. It’s almost a pirate chant and the swinging, accordion-led melodies go in hand with the subject matter perfectly. The climax of the song is reached when the crowd are signalled, thanks to a comical five minute long explanation and practise run before hand, to ‘scream like you’re being swallowed by a whale!’ It’s the true Decemberists anthem, which the crowd in turn, swallow in its entirety, and it finally, rightfully finds every audience member on their feet.