Devendra Banhart descended from his rainbow last week and landed in Albuquerque. The beards in the crowd were swaying to his flamenco-inspired folk rock, and there were enough old thrift-store vests among the audience to restock a vintage boutique.
Banhart was warmly received by all the young faces in the crowd. His was an all-ages show, and the Sunshine Theatre — a downtown venue with legendarily piss-poor acoustics — apparently took a liking to Banhart and his quintet. The group included a slide guitarist and a bongoist, and the fact that six guys crowded the stage gave some indication of what this show wouldn’t be: quiet.
Fans seeking the softer moments of Rejoicing in the Hands or any other title from the 26-year-old’s expansive catalog would’ve been surprised. Banhart held tight to a Les Paul electric most of the night, swerving and propelling through songs like a racecar driver speeding towards the finish. “Tonada Yanomaminista” was emboldened a hard-plated edge; “Long Haired Child” was more Bachman-Turner Overdrive than John Denver.
It’s a natural next step for Banhart, whose latest album, Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon, sought to distance him from the “freak folk” tag that has become so ubiquitous that the first page of Google searches for the term comes up with — you guessed it — references to Banhart.
There was also an unmistakable sexiness that pervaded just about every tune, which belied the singer’s androgynous voice and overall persona. Banhart slinked around the stage with a disarming easiness that left no question of who was in control of this gig.
As if to emphasize this, midway through the show Banhart asked the audience, “Who here has written a new song?” Hands went up, shouts came from the crowd, and a guy named Ben was invited on stage. Banhart handed over the guitar, leaving the youngish, thin, and thickly sideburned singer onstage in front of the large crowd. Ben did alright, playing a folksy tune that resembled something from an old Daniel Johnston album before handing back over the guitar.
Charitable as this was of Banhart, it drew attention to his own music more than it did to that of Ben or anyone else. For the remainder of the show, the question repeatedly came up — who the hell is this guy? The message of “Shabop Shalom,” an ode to love and Judaism, seemed an unlikely candidate to get folks moving. But then again, the lyricism for which Banhart is known didn’t matter so much.
Many songs lacked coherent choruses; Banhart relied on the power of six voices ooh-ing and humming in unison to powerful effect. Banhart has reached an enviable comfort level at this point in his career, and he no longer needs to preach to or proselytize fans. Anyone in attendance knew that, and, had Banhart began singing “Oye Como Va” in a mock-Billie Holiday voice, no one would’ve been surprised.
– Mark Sanders
Photo credits: Lauren Dukoff
Devendra Banhart: www.devendrabanhart.com
XL Recordings: www.xlrecordings.com