REVIEW: An Earnest Night of Folk with The Tallest Man on Earth
10/8 @ Academy of Music, Northampton MA
Photos by TJ Foster
“It was as if he was releasing — dare I say, exorcising — something deep within him that needed to be let out.”
Metroland readers know how spoiled we are here in the Capital Region, with a local music scene that could go head-to-head with any other. But not every tour passes through our neck of the woods, and sometimes you need to get out of town for a night to see a particular show. For times like that, Northampton is a true mecca.
Academy of Music is located in the heart of Northampton, about an hour and a half from Albany over the border. It’s an easy drive regardless, but especially so this time of the year as you’re able to take in the sprawling, gorgeous display of changing leaves as you approach the Berkshires. What made it extra fitting Wednesday night was the fact that The Tallest Man on Earth was performing, an artist who can best be described in a single word as ‘autumnal.’ The need for extra layers on the walk up the hill from the parking lot also helped.
In a rare win for live music in the punctuality department, opening act The Still Tide took the stage exactly half an hour after the venue’s doors opened. The duo filled the entire room with shimmery textures and synthesized beats. Singer Anna Morsett’s vocals were simultaneously haunting and beautiful, and her guitar tones were immaculate. It all melded together into a genre that I’m coining “nighttime pop”; these songs belonged in whatever this day and age’s version of Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist is.
There was barely enough time to run to the merch table and buy a record from Morsett herself before The Tallest Man on Earth (Kristian Matsson) took the stage. He came out doing something unexpected — playing a violin, an instrument he apparently just picked up a year or so ago, but is somehow already great at. Because of course he is!
Before jumping into his second song, he took an unexpected moment to address the audience with a long, earnest introduction, commenting on how it takes a lot these days for him to leave his home in Sweden, where he spends a lot of time in his barn-turned-studio being a “grumpy, scared old man” due to the world at large.
“But it’s too soon for me to become old and cynical,” he said. “There’s so much more. We’re weirdos! We gather in rooms and we listen to break up songs and we sing and we smile.” And with that, he began fingerpicking one of his many guitars at breakneck speed, something that remains undeniably impressive no matter how many times you’ve seen him play.
Throughout the set, his virtuosic playing extended to a number of different instruments, switching for almost every song and giving his guitar tech quite the workout. There was a nylon string guitar, which he played with such tenacity the strings sounded as if they would snap at any moment. There were various other styles of guitars, all set to the various unique tunings he uses throughout his catalog. There was even a tiny banjo (“I don’t even know what this is,” Matsson joked as it was handed to him) that we later learned was handmade by a friend in Sweden out of an antique 1950s salad bowl.
The one constant through all these different instruments was his innate ability to fill the room with such full sound despite being just one man on stage. That had a lot to do with his vocals, which despite being a rather soft spoken man, consistently stretched from a soft whisper to a lion’s roar that sent shivers through the collective room’s spine. It was as if he was releasing — dare I say, exorcising — something deep within him that needed to be let out.
Matsson took his time running through a set that heavily leaned on his first three records, reimagining a few along the way to truly give the audience a distinctive performance. His stories were laced with dry humor and his stage presence was endlessly entertaining — you’d be hard-pressed to find a more charismatic folk singer. He spent the majority of the set on the balls of his feet, shuffling and dancing around the stage in his brown dress shoes, making the audience smirk in satisfaction with his eccentric mannerisms.
At the end of the night as Matsson stood on stage to say goodnight amid a well-deserved, standing ovation, his eyes told the story of a man who was simply grateful for the opportunity to perform. To be present and soak in the unique positivity that only comes from being on a stage, singing songs to a captive and respectful audience. He blew numerous kisses to the audience before taking one final bow, and left the stage with a smile on his face and the hint of a tear in his eye after leaving everything he had on the stage for us to absorb.
For anyone looking for an easy trip outside of the Capital Region to catch some live music, Northampton is an underappreciated market with a slew of wonderful venues providing varying entertainment calendars. And much like the 518, more people should be paying attention.
