Gowanus’s Bell House is a fine setting for folk music and last Friday the farm-chic venue hosted a line-up perfectly suited to the dark realms of woodwork overhead, the glistening chandeliers and a hushed gathering of folkster fans. Cute cowgirl Haley Bonar delivered some easily consumed Americana early on. There was a little Emmylou Harris in her, a little Joni Mitchell, and like such influences, her songs captured the universal blues (“I want the world to know that I still love you”) and why everything in life is in some way destructive. Picking up strange men in bars, smoking cigars, rock ’n’ roll and “the government too” were the main offenders and Bonar’s catchy, warm-and-fuzzy protests against love and living provided some soothing for the weariness of a Friday night.
Toronto’s Great Lake Swimmers, those bearded wonders, then transported us into their world: somewhere heavenly, sad and broken-down. Lush, layered folk tunes met the occasional strike of an electric guitar, a lively harmonica solo or a few notes from the measured melancholy of a flute in what was an enchanting performance.
The group’s songsmith Tony Dekker has without doubt created a repertoire of songs that belong to a dreamtime—ones that could easily have been sung for hundreds of years. Indeed, it was hard not to feel the world turning, life trickling by, as Dekker sang of loss, ache and endless mystery throughout the set. “These are the bricks that shattered my heart,” sang Dekker, embodying the role of wise, ever-pondering balladeer with ease.
Thankfully, it wasn’t all downbeat though, as the set had its rockier moments, with drums and banjo pluckin’ providing the backbone to some of the more lively country-influenced tunes.
Towards the end of the night, Dekker sang “The sun fell down, fell asleep/ Drunk from drinking all the heat” and it seemed to encapsulate the Great Lake Swimmers’ sound. It’s music for an eternal winter: beautiful, sad, with just a few whispers of freedom…
