Mann likes to present her folk-rock songs, often intense character studies about dysfunctional people, with the swagger of a pro and then laugh at how sad the songs seem.
At the Park West on Wednesday night, Mann relied on the the bare minimum in front of a sold-out crowd: her earthy but not too girly voice, her acoustic guitar, a bassist/acoustic guitarist and an accordion player/pianist. The setup worked well for most of the night although Mann’s backing band should learn to pipe down their vocal contribution so not to overpower Mann’s delicate songs.
With her trademark blonde locks falling on her shoulders, Mann strolled on stage casually in a pink, knitted shirt and jeans. She looked focused and ready to introduce the characters she writes about.
We first met a desperate drug addict when Mann performed “High on Sunday 51” from 2002’s “Lost in Space.” In the tradition of folk-rock, she’s amazingly articulate in concert, wanting you to hear every word she sings.
“Let me be your heroin” Mann starkly sang.
She continued painting vivid portraits of addiction, loneliness and withdrawal. For her second song, she introduced us to John and Caroline, two fictional characters who appear in her latest concept album, “The Forgotten Arm.” She jumped into “Goodbye Caroline,” a song when John, a boxer, and Caroline, described by Mann as “trailer trash”, embark on road trip.
The curtain behind the stage beautifully lit up with artwork from the album and
continued to show various pictures from her albums throughout the night.
Pausing at the end of the song, Mann let down her guard for a moment. She turned to the audience and asked for some water.
“Sir, madam? Is there any water?” she asked.
When someone gave her a bottle, she jokingly asked, “you didn’t drink out of it, did you?”
Turning back into character, Mann explained that the next song, “Going Through the Motions,” is also about John and Caroline, although John’s drinking problem is starting to grow.
Strumming her acoustic guitar, Mann makes her already intimate songs seem even more revealing during her live performances. She engages with the audience then shifts gears to tell a story like a novelist.
Although Mann relied largely on material from her most recent albums, she performed a variety of selections spanning her 13-year solo career. Her songs from the famed “Magnolia” soundtrack, Mann’s most mesmerizing work to date, hit an emotional peak with the audience.
Before singing “Save Me,” Mann joked that this is the song “that lost an Oscar to Phil Collins’ love monkey cartoon song.” But when she turned to gently strum the song like a sad waltz, the song’s emotional impact drowned any laughter.
“If you could save me from the ranks of the freaks who suspect they could never love anyone,” Mann implored, making the song sound like a desperate plea for help.
When I looked to my left as Mann’s words repeated in my head, I noticed a waitress who stood in the dark as the candle on her tray flickered, masking a lovely red glow around her face. For that moment during “Save Me,” she stood transfixed. When the song ended, she shook her head and went back to work.
Mann’s songs do that to you: they get under your skin and strike a chord with the alienation we all feel at times. Sure, Mann seems like a normal woman who’s happy with her life and career, but she loves writing about screwed-up people.
Whenever she took a break from her heavy songs, Mann filled the time in between songs with witty banter about smoking, Tom Cruise and Kirsty Alley.
“Sorry, I just ruined the intro to the song, this sad sensitive song,” Mann joked before jumping into “Wise Up.”
“Make it moodier!” she joked to the piano player.
Mann’s 90-minute set included two encores and she filled them by responding to the audience’s requests.
The song “Mr. Harris,” about a young woman who falls in love with a man her father’s age, showcased Mann’s brilliant mix of cynicism of humor.
“And you’ve waited so long and I’ve waited long enough,” she sang.
Ironically, Mann ended the show with “Amateur” from 1993’s “I’m With Stupid.”
Lucky for us, Mann isn’t always like the characters in her song. By the end of the night, we had met Aimee Mann, an inspired pro who should easily be considered one of the most perceptive writers out there.
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