More than 40 years after the start of frontman Michael Gira’s journey to explore the shrieking highs and thunderous lows of the sonic world, legendary ensemble Swans graced Philadelphia’s Union Transfer on the first stop of their last ever “big sound” tour, bringing an end to a chapter in the Swans mythos that began 15 years ago with the post-hiatus epic My Father Will Guide Me up a Rope to the Sky. Two critically acclaimed trilogies of albums and several evolutions in the Swans sound later, Michael Gira is closing out this crucial era of the band with a new live show summarizing everything Swans had accomplished since then. The band arrived armed to the teeth with talented musicians from throughout Swans’ history, most of whom were present for much of the band’s most recent output. This iteration of Swans harbored longtime collaborators Kristof Hahn (Pere Ubu) on lap steel, Chris Pravdica (We Owe) on bass/bowed strings, Phil Puleo (Cop Shoot Cop, Angels of Light) on drums, and Norman Westberg (longtime Swans guitarist) on his classic Telecaster. Joining this iconic lineup were seasoned veterans Dana Schechter (Insect Ark, Angels of Light) on bass/lap steel and Larry Mullins (Nick Cave + Bad Seeds, Angels of Light) on keys/drums, delivering a fresh melodic element to the Swans sound.
Setting the mood for the night were Little Annie and Paul Walfisch, who had both contributed to various Swans projects as well as maintained their own collaborative output. Paul on the keys delivered a fantastic one-man helping of smooth lounge ballads with glissandos and meaty chords that would earn a nod from Tom Waits himself, while Little Annie delivered heart-rending torch ballads in a deep croon that betrayed her dainty figure as she fluttered effortlessly across the stage. As a combined force, the two delivered gut-wrenching covers of Lou Reed’s “Perfect Day” and Solomon Burke’s “None of Us Are Free”, as well as a healthy portion of songs from their most recent lounge masterwork A Bar Too Far.
And then, Swans took the stage. With the band at their battle stations and Michael humbly seated on his stool, the Swans ringleader announced that the show would be a new undertaking for the band: a set of songs new and old, tempered in the fiery forge of the Swans' live experience as the band themselves would discover new musical possibilities for the first time. And of course, no cellphones please. The first song began as a beautiful pulsing dirge as Michael laid the groundwork with a rhythmic strumming of his trusty acoustic guitar. In true Swans fashion, each member laid their contributions to the altar and built it up to a massive celebration of whirling lap guitars and angelic keys while the bass and drums kept their heart pounding with the strength of a warrior, all topped off with Norman’s guitar stabs and Michael’s deep-chested wail. Following this was an immediate frenzy of bass and drums as the band launched into the newer song “The Merge”. Puleo and Mullins chipped a piece of their souls off into every drum hit, while Schechter and Pravdica engaged in a sonic joust from across the stage with dueling bass guitars. In a moment of shock and awe, Michael launched out of his seat and violently flailed as he attempted to puppet the torrent of noise with every extension of his body, whipping his band around with equal parts concentration and insanity. In this moment, he was as both Herzog and Kinski. After a straightforward yet moving performance of “Paradise Is Mine” from their recent offering The Beggar, the band delivered an unexpected fan favorite, “A Little God in My Hands” from their acclaimed 2014 album To Be Kind. Chris Pravdica’s delivery of the iconic bass intro and Michael’s howling delivery cemented this song as the standout moment of the night for many, not to mention the explosive post-chorus instrumental shriek. The new song, dubbed “Little Minds” was a surprisingly beautiful moment, with serene synthesizer and guitar chords swelling as if they were crying for the comfort of an angel’s arms, while Michael interjected with spoken-word ramblings about some unknown thing too surreal to understand but too beautiful for words. Ending the show was one last new song comprised of 30 minutes of every instrument firing on all cylinders as the waves of sound ebbed and flowed above Michael’s rants on inflatable people and plastic sperm, before it all came crashing down. Drums and stringed instruments of all flavors sent the song careening into the depths of the sea, where it slowly came to rest and took its last breaths to the sound of a church organ delivering a mournful eulogy to the 2 and ½ hour ordeal.
Even if Swans should never return after this tour (though doubtful) and Michael Gira never pens a beautiful medley of sound ever again (doubly doubtful), I see no reason why this short run of shows shouldn’t be recognized as perhaps the greatest peak in the band’s illustrious career. It was an experience rivaled in importance only by mankind’s discovery of fire, and many thanks to Mr. Gira and crew for the experience, as well as the professionals at the Union Transfer for being wonderful hosts.
swans
Little Annie & Paul Wallfisch
