live: strand of oaks

(crummy picture courtesy of iPhone + CameraGenius app)

Anyone who is Facebook friends with me already got this impassioned alert, but I’m telling you, if Strand of Oaks is not the Bon Iver of 2010, I will be wreaking some indie rock havoc.

On record, Tim Showalter’s songs are plaintive and folky, constructed from sturdy acoustic strumming, second-cousins to, say M. Ward. Live, though, Showalter moves into the mystic. Last night at New York’s Living Room, he constructed a glimmering latticework of electric guitar — reverb-drenched, snowflake-like patterns, one note melting into the next. It was breathtaking — “Sister Evangeline” became a weird winter hymnal and “Lawns Breed Songs” turned hushed and transcendent. And a new song — which I think is about John Belushi — became dark and distinctly unsettling in its final stanza.

Even more remarkable is Showalter’s voice. On record he’s hushed and introspective, but live it is a beacon, a big, potent, bell-clear tone — a big, immovable object at the center of that mirage-like guitar.

But what makes Strand of Oaks so remarkable is Showalter’s lyrical acuity. He constructs phrases that construe direct meaning without even sinking into bland literalism. One new song actually choked me up, so dead-on was Showalter’s writing.

As always in indie rock, buzz is as much about timing and placement as it is about quality of work. Showalter told me his new record is moving away from his debut’s folky ruminations. If it sounds anything like the strange spells he cast last night — think the best parts of Frederik and Benoit Pioulard — his ascent should be a speedy one.