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Concert reviews Music

The church of Willis Earl Beal

WILLIS EARL BEAL at the Drake, Monday, April 30. Rating: NNNN


From the moment he walked onto the stage of the Drake Underground, Willis Earl Beal’s presence was overwhelming.

A pair of Ray Bans framed by a rectangular, ‘50s style haircut, toothpick in his mouth, clad in tight blue jeans, cowboy boots and a single black leather glove, the heavily-hyped singer/songwriter began his debut Toronto performance not with a song, but a poetry reading.

“This is my bible,” he said. “Welcome to my church.” He was referring to the collected verse in his hand – the words belonging not to him, but to the ultimate symbol of hard-living, hard-drinking American beauty, Charles Bukowski.

Before even singing a note, the 28-year-old troubadour had already presented a fully-formed projection of his persona.

The lead up to Beal’s debut album, Acousmatic Sorcery, has put the emphasis squarely on his backstory, a romantic tale of beatific solitude that could practically have come ripped from the pages of the book in his hand. “Found” living on the streets of Albuquerque and given a lucrative recording deal with XL offshoot Hot Charity, the songs on his debut are not fully-formed compositions, but self-recorded sketches recorded with thrift-store instruments on bottom-barrel equipment.

In an interview with NOW last week, Beal worried aloud that he was being misrepresented, sold as a “sensitive lo-fi indie guy” as opposed to the “black Tom Waits” image that he had claimed elsewhere. Indeed, there is a whiff of marketing in his story, legitimate though it likely is. By selling his demos as “field recordings” rather than let him rerecord them professionally (as he says he initially intended), Beal’s backers have essentially styled him as an accidental genius, a homeless savant “outsider” in the mould of Daniel Johnston, Jandek and Wesley Willis.

As critical discussion has swung back to the oft-trodden “authenticity” debate, reignited by controversially constructed artists like Lana Del Rey, the assumption seems to be that Willis Earl Beal has earned his legitimacy by creating a minor masterpiece away from the corrupting hand of industry bullshit.

Except Beal appears, by all accounts, to be immensely self-possessed and self-aware, and his Toronto performance was, if nothing else, a triumph of self-mythology.

After performing the first song a capella and the second accompanied by a guitar played flat over his crossed-leg, toothpick used as guitar pick, Beal unveiled a vintage reel-to-reel tape machine, which would provide his backing track for much of the show. With the sheet removed (and worn as a cape), the table behind him cut an impeccable aesthetic picture: tape machine perfectly framed, highball on one side, well-worn Bukowski on the other.

And if that seems a bit too perfect, that’s because it kind of was. Everything from his self-drawn “Nobody” shirt (also tattooed on his arm) to his mic-wielding stage moves seemed practiced and polished, maximized to reflect his Tom Waits-meets-Sam Cooke aesthetic.

Often lost in the tired authenticity discussion, however, is the fact, all art is performative. The critical criteria shouldn’t concern whether it’s authentic, but whether it’s effective. And Beal’s live show was definitely effective. Though his music was mostly sparse, sometimes accompanied only by claps and stomps, the packed-in Monday night crowd absorbed his set with wide-eyed pin-drop captivation (that sometimes veered uneasily towards gawking).

What sold the performance wasn’t his props, but his full-force passion and, yes, legitimate vocal chops. He’s obviously still honing its accuracy (he at one point broke the spell of the audience with a sardonic “well, I can’t hit that fucking note”), but Beal has an immensely soulful, powerful, awe-inspiring voice that he commits to with unrelenting intensity. Giving his all at every moment, Beal ended the show dripping with sweat, exhausted from an obviously taxing ordeal.

He seems to be courting a cult audience now, but Willis Earl Beal may one day be destined for big things.

@nowtorontomusic

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