That's Ms. Case To You

Saturday night Neko Case came to the Moore Theater, and the Seattle Times and Post-Intelligencer covered it. Now that she's from Canada, see, she gets all sorts of attention. Of course, she's also a well-known Satanist.

He started out inaudible, but singer-songwriter Sonny Smith got the hang of the mic, opening the show with what struck as a blend of Lou Reed and Randy Newman. We wanted to like him more than we did -- he was too diffident a storyteller, and a few songs just rambled. He's got a fine, lived-in voice, but an eye for detail alone doesn't always produce a good story. Also, for what it's worth, when he announced that next was a song named "Mario," we weren't surprised that the chorus went "Wo wo wo Ma-ri-o." Hear for yourself.

Partly the problem was that everyone was there to hear Neko Case. Just Neko. Not you, bub. Sorry. As soon as she appeared onstage, the crowd turned into a puppy Labrador and started humping her leg. It's extraordinary, the tone and clarity of her voice, which she normally bathes in reverb, so that it sounds like a cave made of brass is trumpeting at you. (The cave is a bit gloomy -- her songs are called alt-country or country noir, to frighten off the Faith Hill fans.) Her challenge as a singer seems to be reining in her huge voice -- you can sense how much attention she has to give to delicacy, when she wants to warble even a little.

Her parents are Ukrainian, according to a reputable source, and there's a sense that that country is where some of the alt- comes from. The lyrics might be stark and bloody or poetically allusive, and the songs can be simply short, without chorus. Her newest album, Fox Confessor Brings the Flood, provided much of the set list along with a "sad song about tigers."

In between almost every song, Case kidded with her bandmates, teasing guitarist Paul Rigby and lap steel guitarist (also on banjo) Jon Rauhouse especially -- joking that Paul's foot pedal controlled slow-mo Jon's pacemaker. Tom V. Ray on stand-up bass and her new drummer Barry Mirochnick were spared. Back-up singer Kelly Hogan, by contrast, kept up a stream of comic chip shots. "Gotta get my axe" she said brightly at one point, and picked up a tambourine, leaving the audience giggling helplessly. They didn't want Neko to leave, coaxing her back for two encores.