It’s become clear to me now that I am a very big fan of The Antlers. Why else would I have stood in a room that was well over 100 degrees for their record release party last Friday? AND still enjoyed it. (Mercury Lounge was most assuredly booked prior to Pitchfork bestowing “best new music” upon the group because that place was PACKED.)
None the less, the show was without a doubt one of my favorites so far this year, and my first time seeing The Antlers play live. There was a brief moment at the start when I thought for sure that they would play Hospice straight through; beginning with “Prologue” followed directly by “Kettering” and then “Sylvia.” Typically I am opposed to that idea, but the record was written with such unusual precision I almost hoped they would try it out. This thought was soon abandoned and forgotten as lead singer Peter Silberman strummed his way into “Two” along with keyboardist Darby Cicci and drummer Michael Lerner.
Singles aside, the track that blew me away entirely at the show (the exception being “Shiva” as it is my most favorite song of theirs) was “Wake.” I can’t think of any way to really describe it, suffice to say it was stunning and beautiful. I had somehow managed to bypass the power of this song on the record, but it was undeniable in live form. When these boys perform, they leave their souls on stage. That is a grandiose statement that just happens to be true. They were joined by Sharon Van Etten for “Wake,” who also has a charming voice; quietly powerful. The show fittingly ended with “Epilogue.”
When talking about Hospice and its subsequent live show, it’s hard not to place Silberman under the spotlight. Not only is he the lead singer, but the story behind the album’s creation is captivating. He has said quite a few times in recent interviews that the music is very autobiographical and has been dealing with many inevitable comparisons to Justin Vernon of Bon Iver: relationship ends, boy leaves with broken heart and creates masterpiece music.
Prior to the show a friend attempted to convince me that Hospice was centered around someone actually having been in a hospital, which I was strangely hesitant to believe. (Also, I can’t seem to find a 100% confirmation in any of the press that this was exactly the case.) When I listen to the record, I imagine the medical imagery becoming a metaphor for the distance and anger that creeps in at the end of a relationship; the cancer of loneliness so to speak. On the one hand, I wish I had jumped at the chance to question the group and on the other I’m rather happy not knowing. What makes Hospice so unique is its ability to resonate with that quiet eerie place inside of you that understands that kind of hopelessness and both its paradoxical permanence and eventual fading away.
