"Sometimes I Sit and Think and Sometimes I just Sit": Humor and Despair in equal parts with Courtney Barnett at Paradiso

The distorted sounds of a guitar with reverb jaggedly echo across the previously-empty air-space of the venue. She enters from the left holding her guitar in her right hand, the strings of which she plucked from off-stage. Her bent-out-of-shape shag haircut, her vintage 70’s raglan tee-shirt and the delay of the white fender are all buzzing with just the right amount of showmanship. But those who know the performer aren’t too distracted by her entrance. Courtney Barnett has built a cult following around her authentic, real lyrics. She is smart but not pretentious, humble but not weak, skilled but not boastful. So I waited patiently in the audience, knowing full well that the real Barnett would soon come out.

If the Beatles, the Ramones, Green Day and Nirvana could collectively grandfather musical offspring, Courtney Barnett clearly would be their golden child. The influences of punk, grunge, garage and psychedelic are all evident in both the visual and sonic aesthetics of Courtney Barnett’s performance at Paradiso on July 2^nd. The venue, Paradiso, is historic in many ways and for that reason leaves big shoes to fill. Paradiso is a church that was reclaimed in the 60’s by hippies who (legally) squatted in the building until they obtained ownership and repurposed it as an entertainment venue. But Barnett successfully filled the venue with light, sound and personality with ease.

Image courtesy of festivalinfo.nl

 Floor to ceiling projections acted as the backdrop to which various light and pyrotechnic effects such as smoke and strobes were coordinated. The content ranged from simple graphics to fully-developed visual stories. For example, the opening set of visuals was an animated (funny) story about how in a world where sharks were bad truck drivers, they would kill more people on the road than in the ocean. While the visuals were very attention grabbing, Barnett’s use of her body in the act of performance was understated and very successful. She seems to have perfectly mastered how to charm an audience through the repetition of small mannerisms. Like how she angles her head upward, creating a cascading effect with her haircut that is very “Beatles” or how she steps away from the mic and looks down and shakes her head up and down in a way that is very “Nirvana”. She has clearly studied the masters’ stage mannerisms and has used them to construct her own.

While her stage personality was an important ingredient in securing her authenticity as a performer, her choices in constructing the set list were even more effective. Every so often, she would work her way through a series of rock-inspired tracks that became progressively harder and harder until she reached a tipping point. Then, at that very tipping point, she would switch vibes entirely, and play one of her playful, self-ironic songs. This juxtaposition manifested itself most poignantly in the contrast between the songs “Kim’s Caravan” and “Pedestrian at Best.” The lyrical content of the two songs is tied. Both songs are anchored to the topic of human futility. But each song treats this heavy topic from an entirely different angle.

“Kim’s Caravan” is emotionally heavy. She talks about death, climate change, and ultimately concludes that our tendency to collapse the world into an extension of our desires is at fault. The song descends slowly into repetition, which eventually falls into a spectacular noise-pop guitar solo. The visuals and stage performance during this moment were particularly successful. The background had been a dark-looking black and white bird-like monster flying. During the crescendo, the bird sped up in time to the music. Barnett sings, “Don't ask me what I mean/ I am just a reflection/Of what you really wanna see/So take what you want from me.” She slowly progressed from singing these lines to screaming the line “so take what you want from me.” During the guitar solo, Barnett dropped to her knees on the ground, and strobes set off all around her as the swan sped up to a lightening pace. These disparate parts came together perfectly to a stunning effect. 

Full shot of Paradiso with Swan on screen
Image courtesy of roarezine.nl

Immediately after this song, there was a blackout that lasted for a few seconds while Courtney Barnett tuned. Then the lights came up on screamingly bright colors as the band played the chords to one of her most popular songs: “Pedestrian at Best.” The crowd screamed in delight, immediately recognizing the song from the chords alone. A playful mosh pit broke out in front, and many started jumping up and down with their hands in the air. During this song, for the most part, she didn’t even sing, but instead talked—slipping in and out of melody mid-line playfully. Lyrically, “Pedestrian at Best” is a self-ironic song. It jokingly talks about how she will mess up her own blossoming success and abuse all of her loving fans: “Put me on a pedestal and I'll only disappoint you/Tell me I'm exceptional, I promise to exploit you.” In a joking way, she mocks us for being there at the concert and for singing along with her. But also simultaneously she mocks herself, too, and the futility of all of her artistic endeavors. The futility of the industry, and all musicians and humans even. This critique is tongue-in-cheek and is just as funny as it is insightful. 

 Although the emotional transition between “Kim’s Caravan” and “Pedestrian at Best” was jarring, it was entirely a success. Why? Because these two songs cleverly juxtaposition the content in such a manner that brought out deeper meanings in both songs. The profound sense of hopelessness and human futility in both songs was suddenly framed in this lovely way. Both despair and humor are coping mechanisms that help one deal with existential depression. And their juxtaposition here makes me think that Barnett has intentionally left them here as if to say that neither form a singular solution to how to cope with the existential problem that is posed by many of her songs. Instead, they both constitute the antidote.  Too much self-awareness? Try a little humor as pain-relief. Too much self-deception? Maybe you need to open your eyes and have a little more insight. Barnett's performance not only upheld my expectations for her authentic persona but also led me to deeper conclusions about the inner workings of such an authentic persona. Her humor and self-awareness are evident on the surface, and it's clear from her performance they serve an important existential function.