at Paramount Theater

Somewhere in the midst of plush seating, complete and utter emotional annihilation, and a sea of gorgeous cartoon owl-laced merchandise lies this fall's Swell Season tour. Showcasing to many a seated theater across the states behind last month's release of Strict Joy, Glen Hansard, Marketa Irglova, and ninety-nine percent of the Frames swept last Sunday's crowd at the Paramount through one of the most compelling sets I've seen in recent years. Moving seamlessly from duo opener to full band to solo-singer-in-a-spotlight and back again, the show that these honest, earnest musicians put on was nothing short of true genius.

Glen and Marketa took the lead for the bulk of the opening songs (hence the sea of Glen photos), and proceeded to filter in the rest of the Frames for another half-dozen songs before Glen took solo center-stage rights mid-set. And this, as they say, is where the proverbial magic happened. What happened during Glen's solo piece of the performance rivaled even his mindbending set in Austin this past summer -- complete with a series of broken strings, a raging Van Morrison cover, and a rendition of "Say it to Me Now" microphone-free from the very front edge of the stage. Unlike some recent seated performances we've attended lately, this crowd was rapt -- absolutely and utterly rapt -- with attention for every moment of every song. And in-between fighting off a full-on sob festival and losing my lens cap, I took note (and very much appreciated) the lockdown that the Paramount staff imposed on seating, ushering in a few people every three songs or so and only during breaks in the performance.

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This not a test. I repeat: this is not a test. This is an actual ticket giveaway. (It's so good, I almost thought that we were kidding.)

The Swell Season will be stopping by the Paramount this Sunday, touring in support of Strict Joy which hit the shelves a few weeks ago at record stores across the States. The lucky winner will not only receive a pair of 14th row floor seats (!!!), but they'll also get a print of this limited edition tour poster made just for the Seattle date of the tour. Email tig@threeimaginarygirls.com with the subject line "StrictJoyInSeattle" to get in the running!

For anyone out-of-town that can't catch a Swell Season date on their relentless upcoming tour schedule, here's the link to Glen and Marketa's recent visit to NPR. (Click "Listen Now" at the top of the page for the full twelve minute interview on "All Things Considered".) I often will quip that performances like these are pull-the-car-over-and-stop kind of amazing, and that's exactly what this performance caused me to do. If you have the time, it's well worth the watch for both the sings and the interview. Enjoy!

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I want to sit you down and talk -- I want to pull back the veil and find out what it is I've done wrong, Glen Hansard croons earnestly. It's the first line from the opening track of the new Swell Season album, Strict Joy. The song "Low Rising" is at once classic Hansard -- heartache, folklore, anguished cries in the middle of a set of casual, life-altering sentences -- and also a gorgeous representation of what old fans will refer to as the 'newer' signature sound of the Swell Season. Hansard's achy, telltale traits are layered in with Marketa Irglova's delicate shared-lead vocals, which vary across the tracks from barely-secondary to her Damien Rice-esque lead on "Fantasy Man." Add in some catchy choruses, two parts major-label caliber production, and a few members of the Frames -- and you've got the perfect follow-up to the Once soundtrack.

Having been a Frames fan for quite a few years now, I was happy to hear the full-band style of the Strict Joy tracks carrying hints of a restrained, filtered-down hint of their tone, as Colm Maclomaire, Joe Doyle, and Rob Bochnik are all contributing members to the Swell Season sound. Which is not to pigeonhole the Swell Season as a side-project of any sort, as it solidly stands on its own legs among Frames and non-Frames albums alike. The dozen tracks wind the listener from the feel-good ache of "Low Rising" to the sad, haunted "The Rain," crossing to the distant, staring-out-the-window-of-the-train movie-scene sound of "Paper Cup." The beginning of the album never stalls out, laying out tracks cohesively one after the other, seamless but not too similar; constantly pretty and yet shot through with knife-in-the-gut writing that begs you to pull the car over and pay attention.

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