A decade ago, Yoni Wolf was performing onstage as one third of the experimental hip-hop group cLOUDDEAD, delivering morbid, esoteric lyrics alongside fellow rapper Doseone. Now, five years after cLOUDDEAD’s dissolution, Wolf is the frontman of five piece indie rock group Why?, whose latest album Eskimo Snow is such a departure from his roots that it’s hardly surprising to see him on tour with freak folk bands Au and Dark Dark Dark. While Wolf’s morbid fascination still dominates his lyrics, his music with Why? is most notable for its intensely personal songwriting, with only slight traces of Wolf’s hip-hop background evident in the band’s newest material.
I caught Why?’s September 30th show at Daniel Street in Milford, CT, about 45 minutes from Middletown. The event was organized by Manic Productions, who seem to be responsible for just about every upcoming show in the state of Connecticut. Aside from shows at Wes itself, there are pitifully few concerts within day-tripping distance of Middletown, so it was nice to see that we weren’t overlooked by Wolf and company.
Openers Dark Dark Dark played a moody, Eastern European-tinged brand of folk, which would have pleased fans of My Brightest Diamond or Beirut. The four piece band, who performed on banjo, accordion, trumpet, keyboard, and upright bass, were fairly well-received by the crowd, although most audience members hung back until Au took the stage.
Au, a two-member group from Portland, played music that was alternately mellow and propulsive. Stretches of ambient noise, drum clatter, and singer Luke Wyland’s unintelligible crooning spontaneously erupted into energetic beats and intricate keyboard patterns. Au readily brought to mind the whimsical energy of Animal Collective. The band seemed to have about as much fun during their set as the audience, who were thoroughly warmed up by the time Why? took the stage.
Why?’s set was on the short side, and surprisingly light on material from Eskimo Snow, which was just released on September 22. Instead, the band favored songs from 2008’s Alopecia, playing more than half of the album over the course of the set. Lively opener “These Few Presidents” was followed by “These Hands,” the first track off of Eskimo Snow, and then by another block of Alopecia tunes. Wolf handled only some light percussion duties during the show, while his brother Josiah played both drums and marimba (occasionally at the same time). Filling out the band were keyboardist Doug McDiarmid, guitarist Andrew Broder, and bassist Mark Erickson.
Although four out of the five band members had vocal mics, it was Wolf’s distinctive nasal talk-singing that dominated the music, with the rest of the band providing some light backup vocals. For most of the evening Wolf hung back, pacing behind his mic stand, but twice he stepped to the edge of the stage and met the crowd. First, during “Good Friday,” which features Wolf in signature white-boy rap delivery, shamelessly confessing a virtual laundry list of his sins (doing coke, jerking off in public bathrooms, etc.) over a crisp beat and shrill bursts from Broder’s guitar. Later in the set, the band played “This Blackest Purse,” a piece of piano balladry in which Wolf is not nearly as brazen with regard to his shortcomings: “Mom, am I failing or worse?” he sings during the song’s chorus. When Wolf stepped out toward the crowd during “This Blackest Purse”, it seemed not like showboating but like soul-bearing, a rare moment of poignancy from a man who most often addresses his most intimate thoughts and desires with levity.
Stage banter was light and largely consisted of Wolf and company parrying a fairly obnoxious crowd (one audience member called for Wolf to take his shirt off, to which he retorted, “you take your shirt off, bitch”). Highlights of the set included Eskimo Snow standout “January Twenty Something,” as well as Alopecia favorites “The Vowels, pt.2” and “The Fall of Mr. Fifths,” and “Gemini (Birthday Song),” the lone representation from 2005’s Elephant Eyelash. The set ended with “21st Century Pop Song,” a cut from Wolf and Broder’s 2002 side project Hymie’s Basement, apparently requested by an intrepid fan before the show.
“Hide nothing, hide nothing,” Wolf repeats at the end of “These Hands,” and in the context of an album like Eskimo Snow it sounds almost like his mission statement. In his lyrics and onstage, Wolf is an open book, although at times he proves to be a tough read. Singing along to his songs can often seem strange – voyeuristic, even – but it’s hard to help oneself when they’re so damn catchy.