Ottawa Folk Festival’s Eh! Stage boasted a slick bill on night three with veteran soul singer Lee Fields and his band the Expressions, and Ohio’s critical rock darlings The National.
The Expressions took the stage with a relaxed instrumental. They locked into a subtle two-step swing for nearly the entire set. The band’s apparent talent was only outdone by the arrival of Lee Fields, a true showman, who stopped and pointed slyly at the audience. “Now I know y’all came here to have a good time,” Fields grinned, as he ripped the mic loose from its stand.
Despite being in his 60s, Fields gave the most youthful performance at Folk Fest thus far.
He rambled across the stage, writhing, and swaying as he acted out his lyrics.
Though he played songs that spanned his whole career, the singer focused on his 2014 record, Emma Jean, which he explained was named after his recently deceased mother.
Clearly bearing a strong emotional attachment to each word he crooned, Fields tore through a set that could’ve been ripped straight from a ‘70s night club.The diverse crowd bobbed their heads in unison, hooted, and broke out a few lame dance move. Fields had a riotous time, and the audience followed suit.
The National hit the stage right at 9:30 p.m. Amidst of flurry of smoke and The Doors’ “Riders on the Storm” playing, the indie-rock five-piece strode onstage and played “Don’t Swallow the Cap” off of 2013’s Trouble Will Find Me. While the record had good representation through the set, vocalist Matt Berninger and company managed to strike a healthy balance between old and new. The curation of their set felt like napalm being teased with a match.
Berninger’s thick, melancholy vocals were lively and spry. His voice mixed well with guitarists’ Aaron and Bryce Dessner’s nimble, understated guitar work. Bryce’s antics were memorable, as he swung a second guitar in his hands, slamming it against the stage in time to produce a chord. The ever-awesome violin bow was employed as well, in an impressive fashion.
Pacing and striding fervently like a mad professor, Berninger’s signature baritone turned at times to a guttural shout, recalling post-punk feelings of days past. A powerhouse rendition of “Mr. November,” Berninger disappeared into the audience, the only evidence of his existence a mic cable being held aloft over the crowd. Still, barreling through (and on top of) the sea of drooling fans, his vocals never strained nor suffered. His en-point delivery amid the madness was tribute to the entire set.
Closing out with the entirely acoustic “Vanderlyle Crybaby Geek,” the band ended with the same kind of intimacy veiled throughout their songs in a wall of sound, except the intimacy was front and centre, unprotected and fragile. The juxtaposition of The National is beautiful.
