Andy Grammer is a subtle performer. And by “subtle” I mean the audience didn’t notice he was onstage until he was behind the microphone, casually greeting them with a “What’s up New Orleans?” In his opening set for the Colbie Caillat concert at the House of Blues on Monday night, he introduced the piano and guitar-driven tracks of his self-titled debut album to the audience with a calm coolness. No slow motion grand entrance, no dramatic music, no flashy lights framing the artist, none of that gaudy stuff you witness in many pop concerts these days—just Andy in his dark jeans, white Nikes, black button-down with the sleeves rolled up over a red penguin-embellished t-shirt and a lightening bolt guitar strap across his chest.
An assortment of basic decorative pillows were scattered across the front ledge of the stage, and a striped terracotta rug spreads across a floor cluttered with various speakers, wires, and standing guitars giving the appearance of what I imagine a male musician’s living room looks like. A modest trio of lights intermittently flashed neon yellows, greens, and magentas through the crowd. The simple set added to the aura of comfortable casualness that Grammer emanated from the start.
His soulful, rock-infused pop tunes energized a slow-to-warm up crowd, which was surprisingly strewn with several gray heads, 40 year-old beer bellies, and cowboy hats among the expected college-aged and mid-to-late twentysomething concertgoers. He alternated between strings and keys while he released his always upbeat ballads through teeth-baring smiles and strummed the instruments like a kid with a shiny new toy—in terms of appearance, not skill of course. “I’m gonna sing you a song New Orleans,” he said as he started his newest song “Takes Me Away,” not featured on his album. At that moment, he looked like a teenager at prom, coyly asking the audience to dance from across the room.
The act’s simplicity was refreshing. He added no dance moves to the performance, instead remaining fairly stationary behind the microphone or piano, only bobbing to the smooth rhythm he created. He let his dramatic facial expressions do the dancing, the only dramatic element of his act. Raised eyebrows, wide smiles and deep looks charmed the audience as his wide-eyed glances scanned the crowd, attentive to floor and balcony fans.
The intensity of his expressions reminded me of mimes and other street performers that color the corners of the French Quarter, and I assume the instinctive amplification is a learned behavior from Grammer’s three years of performing along the bustling Los Angeles streets where his music career began, competing with fortune tellers and magicians for the tourists’ dollar. The experience informs the narrative in several of his songs, including “Biggest Man in Los Angeles,” “Keep Your Head Up” and “Lunatic.”
While he never seems to induce a moment of mass connectedness through crowd, I’m intrigued by the way his playful demeanor makes me feel as if I’m relaxing in his apartment getting a private performance among pals rather than standing in a crowded public venue. “Sing with me New Orleans,” he shouts as he starts a rendition of Maroon 5’s “Sunday Morning.”
He concludes the set with the optimistic hit “Keep Your Head Up,” which he performed on Jay Leno’s The Tonight Show last month. He laughs as he informs the audience that Carrot Top and Dick Cheney were his fellow guest stars. “Peace,” he says with two outstretched fingers when he finishes the song and exists the stage as subtly as he entered.
As I listen to him sing about fresh new romances, yearning for love, and persevering through daily obstacles, I’m taken back to my googly-eyed teenage days of NSYN’C and the Backstreet Boys, yet I’m envious of today’s teenagers and their pop idols—Grammer is just more authentic than those nineties boy banders, and well, not so “poppy.” Scanning my personal frame of musical reference, I’d say he lies somewhere between Bruno Mars and Maroon 5.
I’ll admit I purchased his CD, which sold for a mere $10, a steal even for my college student frugality and as I stood in line waiting to get his signature, I watched Grammer run his teeth across the top of each CD case and peel the label, asking each fan their name, where they’re from, and thanking them individually for their support, while adding a “very nice to meet you” as he scribbled a signature with a Sharpie from his front pocket and posed for a crew member to snap a photo for his personal Facebook album.
I smile at the humbleness of a pop artist not yet bolstered by fame, like Cooper’s Mohicans, untainted by civilization, and look forward to hearing more from the fresh, organic voice he brings to the pop scene.
