On a frigid night in January, Jana Horn didn't let the state of the country hold things back and decided to donate 100% of the night's proceeds to mutual aid relief in Minnesota in support of the nationwide strike i support of the elimination of ice. You could tell the mood in the crowd was fraught with emotions, disbelief, and utter confusion as to how this could be happening, but Horn's music provided a much needed relief from our dire conditions and offered a resounding sense of community in a time when it felt most important. Playing through her new record, albeit in a new order, Horn and company recreated these exquisite tunes with profound clarity. These fragile songs that blended ambient dream-folk with notions of slowcore and hints of country came through in wonderfully sharp and precise measures. Close-micd vocals made Horn's voice cut through the silent and patient crowd (although it was a pleasure more than a patience) with soft, subtle power that drew attention and clear focus. Behind her, flute and clarinet added moving textures that gave the songs life and helped them leap from the stage as powerful bass boosted the tunes to stellar heights. Striking the meat and flesh to leave only the bones, allowing the music to echo throughout the skeletal chamber was not only impressive, but fully confident and realized to the nth degree. "Go on, move your body" with its direct, opening lyrics really punctured through the set, like a punch to the gut waking you up from a stupor, the speak/sung words making themselves even more prominent here and as isolated as ever. The noir tones of Mazzy Star created a dark and encompassing haze that was matched with elements of Linda Perhacs and Widowspeak's sepia-toned melodies. Harmonizing her voice with the flute rising under her, there were states of pure elation and times that transcended the space to put us all in a trance of unadulterated bliss. Brushed drum strokes added subtle notes of texture to each track, giving a bit of grounding to the otherwise ethereal moments floating around us. Taking the minimal components that Liz Harris has perfected as Grouper and flushing them out into more robust, swelling moments was magnified on stage, but never once sacrificed the closeness for the space in which it filled. Even in a sold out room, it felt like Horn was singing just for you, the intimacy (assisted of course by the venue itself) the perfect setting for these fragile, yet breathtaking songs. Bringing friend Helena Deland on stage for the last few songs of the night to enhance the harmonies pushed things further to the edge of fantasy, the sparkle and shimmer of their voices coming together enough to really send us to the cosmos. The rawness of the album is enough to draw you in close when listening on headphones, but Horn's remarkable ability to transmit these songs from the studio to the stage with such majesty makes for something incredibly calming and joyful. A much needed act of the moment and one that delivers in all its virtues.
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