Nosaj Thing, jj, and The xx questioning Live Performance

Sunday night's triple billing at the (Historic) Sixth and I Synagogue was an exercise in defining the art of live performance. The XX headlined, playing with Nosaj Thing and jj.

I'd never heard o Nosaj Thing before, and was pleasantly surprised by Jason Chung's music. I was even more surprised by the fact that Jason Chung is a dj, so his entire performance consisted of him fiddling on a turnstile. While his act didn't need an entire stage with a seated audience at full attention, he was as lively as one could be for a music act that consists of turning knobs and pressing buttons. He danced in time with the music and did a dramatic flourish with his spindly fingers each time the beat changed, or the lull in the music was broken up, as if to emphasize that this was in fact being played live, and not pre-recorded.

If Nosaj Thing wanted to come across as a live act, then jj most definitely did not. jj, a Swedish duo with two albums under its belt (no 2 and no 3), produces a dreamy, poppy music that reminds me of Beach House. But their live performance was anything but fun. The music consisted of a recording played pumped through an iMac on stage. The lead singer then sang along to the music into a microphone. She maintained a grumpy look the entire time. Her partner, who is supposed to be the musician of the group, came out several times to give the singer a hug before retreating to the wings, as if to say "I'm part of the band, but have transcended my need to play music during a live performance." Perhaps this was an attempt to make an artsy comment on the value of live music, but it definitely left many audience members grumpy.

The xx finally came on at around 10 pm. The most traditional presentation of the night, the three band members came bearing guitars and a keyboard. Romy Madley Croft and Oliver Sim even sang into their microphones. But they also made me question the purpose of a live performance because of the huge disparity between their live sound and their album sound. As New Yorker critic, Sasha Frere-Jones, has pointed out, The xx makes music that's meant to be whispered into your lover's ear. Most of the lyrics traverse the territory of quiet broken hearts, nostalgia, and misbegotten romance. I expected an intimate concert that mirrored the intimate cocoon of their album. What I got instead were histrionic lights, thumping bass, and an aggressively swaying Oliver Sim. This made for an overly dramatic experience that rendered such lyrics as "Heart skipped a beat, but when I caught it it was out of reach," ridiculous. Though I enjoyed the music, I hope The xx tones it down for future performances.