Grow Up, Jenn Grant

I first heard Jenn Grant’s Orchestra for the Moon the night the Dalhousie graduate architecture students unveiled the first part of the outdoor theatre they had built in Spencer’s Island, five minutes down the road from Advocate. It was an extremely windy and cool night (though July can often be windy and cool in Advocate) and we milled about waiting for the decision to unfurl the sail-like screen (they finally decided against it). Living in a fishing village in the middle of rural Nova Scotia there certainly is a dearth of cool, so when I heard her beautiful voice, her charming melodies, her complex yet pretty orchestration, I marched over to the students and asked who was playing. “Jenn Grant,” they said. “She’s from Halifax.” So the next time I was in Halifax, I bought the CD and it’s basically been on repeat on my iPod, in the car, and on my stereo ever since. Multiple friends have copies. I don’t just love this CD, I LOVE this CD.

Flash forward two and a half years later and I’m living in Halifax where I’ve been trying to get my fill of all things culture before possibly heading back to the fishing village in the spring. I took in a week of movies at the Atlantic Film Festival, have enrolled in two continuing ed. courses at NSCAD, walk the dog in the park, go to concerts. So when I heard Grant was playing at the Rebecca Cohn, Dal’s beautiful theatre, I excitedly got tickets. Plus – bonus! She has a new CD out (Echoes) and this would be her official release.

Concerts, for me, can do one of two things. They introduce or reintroduce me to an artist, solidify my admiration, encourage me to look into their back catalogues or explore a band or musician I had never heard of. Examples include Jolie Holland, whose latest album (The Living and the Dead) hadn’t really impressed me until I saw her live. Four years ago, Broken Social Scene was ok, but the (to me) unknown band that opened up for them, Stars, blew me away. Other memorable concerts include The Sundays, Lhasa, José Gonzalez, Radiohead, and Beck, to name a few.

Then there are concerts that do the opposite. Whatever admiration I had evaporates after the second or third song. There are many reasons why. The crowd and therefore the realization their fans are drunken louts (Broken Social Scene), the sheer rudeness and ingratitude of the musicians (The Cranberries), the precious, phony, or cheesy stage show they put on (Santana), the low quality of the music and/or performance (Lush), or, and often most importantly, the in-between-song banter. When Tegan and Sara opened up for Rufus Wainwright, their banter about laundry and eating had me yelling at them to shut up (the crowd was full of louts—I had a full beer spilled on me—so my heckle went unnoticed).

Back to Jenn Grant. If she’d just sung her (absolutely underwhelming) songs, I wouldn’t have learned how much of a twit she is. Between songs she told stories about smashing up her mom’s car, about piercing her nose, about ballet class, about looking at fireflies in the country. And if any of these stories were brief or had anything to do with the music, then maybe I could have forgiven her. But instead they went something like this, “I was in the country…in, you know, like, Ottawa, in the country, right? And so one night I was walking with (insert name-dropped unknown Canadian musician here) and we, like, hee hee, saw, you know fireflies? And they were like, I don’t know they like flash and stuff, and so, I yeah, um, where’s my capo? So they were, oh my god, Rose Cousins! Everyone! Thank you Rose for singing with me tonight and um, yeah, so fireflies, they were, well, here’s a song about, um, er, stupid capo, here is some butterflies—no! I mean fireflies!”

Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up shut up! And worse than that was she didn’t sing one song from Orchestra for the Moon. Not. One. And her new album? Boring. Gone are the interesting time signature changes, gone is the fancy, floaty voice work, gone is the solidity of the first album. But you know, sophomore albums…a time to grow, right? Grant, clearly, is not a grown up. Here was a little girl on stage in a ridiculous purple satin dress with too-large red heels. Here was someone with no sense of audience. Here was yet another female artist who feels the need to act like a dumb girl when clearly her art is very intelligent and mature. And here is one less fan of Jenn Grant.