Music Blog

Some music is better listened to with your eyes closed; taking it in, letting it marinate in your ears and echo through your skull with the artist out of sight and in your mind. Austra, the Canadian new wave outfit which serves as a vehicle for the full-bellied voice of lead singer Katie Stelmanis, creates that type of music.

Stelmanis got her start singing with the Canadian Children's Opera around age 10 and took her voice to the dark side. She started performing with band mates Maya Postepski (drummer) and Dorian Wolf (bassist) under the Austra moniker in 2009. This year marks the release of the Goth-tinged trio's debut, Feel It Break, which garnered attention for its deep throbbing beats that drip with heavy, classically trained vocals that are beat up and punctured for effect.

I feel weary coming into the show tonight. There's this heroicness of Austra, the first time you hear the danceable "Lose It" or the Nico-esque "Darken Her Horse" through your stereo or record player you start to realize that no venue short of a cathedral or archaic concert hall can do this sound justice. You get a taste of Austra through your speakers, but you know you're not getting the full bite, and you're okay with that because there's that boundary between you.

But here I am, in the atrium of Holocene, and that boundary has been broken. It's just me, over 200 other guests, and the artists on stage. I'm worried the show won't be as epic as I had hoped, not because the sound is lacking, or the performance is off, and not because Stelmanis's voice isn't hauntingly beautiful because it is. It's because nothing can live up to the buildup of Feel It Break, the emotional train that drives through the album, stopping for sorrow, grief, joy and change. This train seats one, there's not room for the throngs of people who sway and sip drinks around me. This is alone music and I'm not alone.

So many eyes are closed, we're swaying at different speeds and some people look like they're dancing to a different beat altogether. Twin sisters act as backup singers, chanting the chorus of "Lose It" with elfish tone. Stelmanis breaks during song intros to let the music steal the limelight. We're getting pulled in different directions, moving into separate spaces in our minds. I start to realize I am alone and so is everyone else.

Before the show, there was a long line of people waiting to get in, letting friends jump in front and behind, looking hostile, agitated and cold. Now thick drums thump through the room, keys brighten the drums, vocals tie them together and rise above, and everything is calm and peaceful.

The Holocene is not a cathedral or a personal train car. It's a warehouse space built with the artist in mind, a sonic sound space that's sold out and packed on this particular night. Still, if you close your eyes and let your ears do the work, you're with the Austra you fell in love with--Stelmanic's deeply haunting and melodramatic voice, Postepski's steady, rhythmic backing and the eerie wail of Wolf's guitar. You're alone in a room full of people but you feel so serene, and for music to bring you into that spot, it's got to be epic, boundless even.

Tagged: live review