Hometown unicorn
On a tense night in the US, the head-turning singer-songwriter is on strident form in her adopted Minnesota base. By Bob Mehr.
Haley Bonar The Lemon Twigs First Avenue, Minneapolis
Flipping back a tendril of red hair, Haley Bonar ponders her evolution as a singersongwriter, which began with her penning tunes as a small-town teen and now finds her as a 33-year-old woman, artist and mother. “When you gain a bigger grasp of the world, it’s going to come out in your work somehow,” says Bonar. Ostensibly discovered at age 19 by Low’s Alan Sparhawk, the Canadian-born, South Dakota-bred Bonar is eight albums into a career that’s just now gaining its most serious creative and commercial momentum. “I never would have believed you if you told me I’d be doing this 14 years later,” says Bonar, sipping tea backstage at First Avenue, a few hours before her headlining turn at the club. “It’s been a surprise, but the way it’s gone feels so organic to me.” In 2017, Bonar has achieved hometown hero status in her adopted Twin Cities base, earned growing acclaim in the US for her latest (and best) album Impossible Dream, and turned heads during a blitz through the UK last fall (including a star-making appearance on Later… With Jools Holland). On this late-January night, Bonar is topping the bill of a sold-out anniversary concert for influential Minneapolis Public Radio station The Current. “It’s kind of a mini-BBC, they’re tastemakers,” notes Bonar, who’s become one of its playlist staples. The evening’s other featured act is Long Island retro-pop fetishists, The Lemon Twigs. Led by teenaged brothers Brian and Michael D’Addario, the songs off their recent debut Do Hollywood draw on the likes of Nilsson and Todd Rundgren, Raspberries and Big Star, while their rather outré fashion sense borrows more directly from Slade and the Bay City Rollers. Uncharacteristically dressed down in muted track suits and denim, their natural showiness – the brothers began their careers as child actors on Broadway and in film – is nevertheless on full display. Michael is the peacock of the pair: a mugging, sticktwirling Moon The Loon on drums, then a high-kicking, leaping Townshend on guitar. Meanwhile, Brian – a dead ringer for Gene Clark – offers a more grounded emotive counterpoint, as he plumbs romantic depths on halting power ballads These Words and How Lucky Am I?. Interestingly, the live versions of the songs outstrip those on record – the album’s twiddly bits and sonic clutter replaced by leaner arrangements and melodic
“BONAR EMERGES ELEGANTLY ATTIRED IN BLACK AND PROCEEDS TO TAKE CONTROL OF THE ROOM.”
muscle. The D’Addarios’ rapid maturation is further confirmed with several stellar songs off their forthcoming second album – including set stand-outs So Fine and closer Queen Of My School – which augurs well for their future. With the youthful Twigs having revved up the crowd with their giddy sprit, Bonar emerges – elegantly attired in all black – along with her four-piece band, and proceeds to take control of the room with an altogether different energy. She opens with Hometown, a Springsteen-style escape anthem about what’s left behind and what lingers: “All grown up, saving up for my exit… But the further that I get/The deeper my regrets.” From the start, there is something strident in Bonar’s manner and music. For most of the night, the audience have been furiously checking their phones, as newly elected President Trump’s ‘Muslim ban’ has resulted in chaos and mass protests across American airports. There’s a palpable unease about the state of the country – that tension and its release is at the core of Bonar’s performance. Given current events, there’s a particularly foreboding quality to something like From A Cage, as she belts its final chilling line: “Well they’re closing down the party, and they’re bringing heavy chains…but we’ll learn to love our freedom from a cage.” The songs themselves, which move stylistically between indie rock, alt pop, and skewed folk, play as ethereal soundscapes built around her soaring voice, with drummer Jacob Hanson and guitarist Matt Vannelli layering atmosphere all around. She prefaces the title track of 2013’s Last War with an introduction that notes the new value of vocal resistance: “The only time you should be silent is in a fucking library.” Delivered as a howl of dissent, it ends with feedback drowning out the crowd’s cheers as the band leaves the stage. Bonar soon returns, grabbing an acoustic and opting for a more hopeful encore, the sprite roots of Down Sunny Roads. The night wraps with the joyously received garage gallop of Called You Queen. Bonar bows and moves on, marking her final show before a spring European tour. Her evolution continues apace.