Even before the rear passenger-side tire of my friend’s car blew out in the middle lane of I-40, I had convinced myself that I would not, in fact, be seeing Courtney Barnett at the Ritz on Jan. 30. I had bought a ticket to the concert months earlier; I had secured a ride; my Courtney Barnett shirt was washed, folded, and ready to be worn. Everything seemed in order. But as the date loomed, so too did the specter of the omicron variant.
Late January provided an abundance of snow—and also coronavirus exposures. One misstep, and I would pass the night of the concert in isolation, listening to Courtney Barnett through earbuds instead of a PA system. Somehow I found myself in the back of a car at 6 p.m. on the evening of the show, driving to Raleigh. The vibe was giddy. Then the car hit a deep pothole and we fishtailed to a stop on the shoulder. I thought it was the end of the night. But after a call to a towing company and a short walk along the side of the interstate, we were picked up by another friend and arrived at the Ritz with a half-hour to spare. Waiting in line in the cold felt like a blessing.
My mere presence at the show seemed magical, and I’m sure I wasn’t the only one there who felt that way. It has been nearly two years now of cancellations, postponements, disruptions, and disappointments. Pick a date in your calendar, plan a trip, and surely something must go wrong between now and then. The only way to deal with it all is to dispense with the future altogether. So when the lights dimmed and the show began, it felt like a surprise, even though I had bought my ticket in October.
The opening act, Shamir, took the stage right at 8 p.m. (Raleigh’s strict noise ordinances kept the concert on a tight schedule.) Shamir is Shamir Bailey, a Las Vegas-born and Philadelphia-based artist whose gorgeous countertenor has been weaving deftly from genre to genre since their 2014 EP, Northtown. (Shamir identifies as nonbinary and uses he/she/they pronouns; “I don’t wanna be a girl, I don’t wanna be a man,” they sing on the new single “Cisgender.”) Shamir emerged from stage left in a flower print shirt, a blue hat with a flower on it, rainbow checkered pants, and a sunflower choker. They were backed by Rhea Freed on drums and Grant Pavol—whose long hair, sideburns, and jeans contributed to the 70s look—on bass. The trio began with “Gay Agenda,” a single from Shamir’s upcoming album Heterosexuality about the power in escaping the “boxes” of gender and sexuality. “Pledge allegiance to the gay agenda,” it implores.
After a few more songs, Shamir announced, “This is the metal portion of our set,” and guitars got fuzzy, cymbals got smashed, hair got thrown around. Shamir’s voice rose, bright and beautiful, above the noise. Just after announcing that they had one last song for us, the trio was unceremoniously ushered offstage, much to the audience’s disappointment. “We didn’t time our set right,” Shamir said, apologetically. “We love you,” responded several people in the crowd.
Courtney Barnett emerged, also in a flower-print shirt, to riotous applause and blue lights. Her new album, Things Take Time, Take Time, released in November of last year on Mom + Pop Music, is blue-themed. Its cover art is nine smudges of blue paint. The color suits the LP, which is quieter than Barnett’s previous records; not necessarily sad, its mood is sometimes wistful and often hopeful. On “Rae Street,” the first song on the record and the first song of the set, Barnett balances contradictory emotions. “The sun will rise today and tomorrow,” she sings. “We’ve got a long, long way to go.”
The stage was set up like a living room, with six floor lamps at the back, each with a curtain hanging behind it. Adding to the ambiance were the messy-haired bassist wearing a cardigan and the keyboardist in a Patagonia fleece. It was about as cozy as the Ritz, with its 1,400-person capacity, can get. “Sunfair Sundown” followed “Rae Street,” and the lights shifted to warm reds and yellows. The laid-back intimacy of the track’s lyrics glowed, too. “And I smile,” Barnett sang, “when you say that you’ll build me a table one day.”
“Avant Gardener,” Barnett’s next song, is her most popular, with more than 36 million listens on Spotify. While it was probably the highlight of the show for many in the audience, it certainly was for my friend, also in attendance, who has a serious nut allergy and found deep kinship with the song when he first heard it in ninth grade. “Avant Gardener” (which is about an allergic reaction) combines the sort of lyricism found in the best rap songs—dense layers of wordplay, rhymes, and cultural references—with a gorgeous melody, a novelist’s sense for story, and Barnett’s signature chilled-out Aussie flow. “I get adrenalin/Straight to the heart/I feel like Uma Thurman/Post-overdosing kick start.” How many artists can write a great song about anaphylaxis?
Barnett has a knack for finding the pearl in the humble oyster. “Depreston,” maybe the prettiest song of the night, is about a bungalow for sale in a suburb of Melbourne. At first the lyrics are all cul-de-sacs and garages. Then we enter the house, and we see the remnants of a previous life: “the handrail in the shower,” a well-loved kitchen with containers for coffee and flour, “a photo of a young man in a van in Vietnam.” Suddenly you’ve been brought nearly to tears by the recognition that human life is incomprehensibly beautiful, even in the suburbs.
If coaxing emotion from cul-de-sacs is like forming a pearl from a grain of sand, then discovering poetry in the names of pharmaceuticals must be akin to turning urine into gold. But Barnett makes it work. On “Avant Gardener,” her pronunciation of psuedoefedryn, a decongestant, rings like scripture. On “Lance Jr.,” near the end of the set, Barnett makes “temazepam” sound so good that if I ever have a child I will strongly consider naming them Pam (short for Temazepam, of course).
A pair of songs from Barnett’s 2015 album Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit brought the concert to its peak. “Elevator Operator” was rowdier than most of the previous songs, and the crowd started to bounce as Barnett danced and kicked across the stage. Then came “Pedestrian at Best,” Barnett’s loudest song, and the energy that had been building throughout the show crested and crashed over the audience in a massive tidal wave of sound. Barnett shredded on her fuzzed-out guitar and screamed the chorus: “Put me on a pedestal and I’ll only disappoint you!” The crowd shouted along, with fists raised and veins bulging at the temples: “Give me all your money, and I’ll make some origami, honey!” From the looks of things, most of the audience would have eagerly handed over their wallets. At the end of the song, there was quiet for the first time all night; everyone, Barnett and her band included, needed a few moments of rest.
The set ended with “Write a List of Things to Look Forward To,” from Things Take Time… (a track included, for better or for worse, in Barack Obama’s top songs of 2021). Before the encore—a duo of songs from the new album, including the aptly-titled “Before You Gotta Go”—Barnett chatted a bit and led the crowd in singing “Happy Birthday” for Jason, her front-of-house guy. Earlier in the night, she complimented an audience member on their sweatshirt (Newport Folk Festival) and said, “If I had time, I’d comment on everyone’s outfit.” I believed it.
When Things Take Time… was first released, some people were disappointed. There were no big hits like “Avant Gardener” or “Pedestrian at Best,” and the lyrics weren’t quite as funny and irreverent as Barnett’s earlier work. I was “some people”—at first. Then, when I made it to this concert despite all odds, I hung on every word because the unlikely bubble of peace and music in which I found myself could pop at any second. The power of Courtney Barnett live forced me to reevaluated my earlier position. It turns out that “Rae Street” tells a wonderful story, “Here’s the Thing” has a chorus like sunlight, and “Write a List of Things to Look Forward To” really might be one of the best songs of last year.
Setlist: Rae Street Sunfair Sundown Avant Gardener Need a Little Time Small Poppies Turning Green Depreston Here’s the Thing Walkin’ on Eggshells On Script Lance Jr Elevator Operator Pedestrian at Best If I Don’t Hear from You Tonight History Eraser Write a List of Things to Look Forward To
Encore: Oh the Night Before You Gotta Go
