You'd think Chris Thile would be satisfied being our generation's finest interpreter of Bach.
But he's also part of two mighty prolific Grammy-winning progressive bluegrass bands, the Punch Brothers and Nickel Creek. The latter act performed at Toronto's Danforth Music Hall on Wednesday night after nearly 20 years' absence from the city. Part way through "Green and Gray," Thile giggled to himself at the lyric "He's doing fine with his notebook and Discman," quipping "that's how long it's been" before continuing with the next line.
Following the song, he and the audience agreed that the Walkman perfected anti-skip protection long before its compact disc counterpart. Musicians of this calibre often aren't this funny or personable. And perhaps this explains their longevity as much as the quality of their songwriting and talent.
Nickel Creek was formed by Thile and master violinist Sara Watkins in the late '80s when they were both eight years old, along with Watkins' older brother Sean on guitar. There aren't many of us who can say their childhood bands found superstardom. Theirs has sold 1.5 million albums, and their audience is more than loyal.
The band has largely been on hiatus for the last decade, so this show saw them met with a rapturous welcome from the appreciative crowd of 1500 devotees. Songs from previous albums were greeted like old friends, and new songs from their latest effort Celebrants were cherished in complete silence. Except for the solos. Every solo, even twenty songs into the night, was cheered as if they were rounding third base and about to score the winning run.
Augmented by Jeff Picker on double bass, the quartet played a nearly two-hour set that oscillated between virtuosic and playful. Thile, now 42, marvelled at one point at the fact that he and his bandmates were adults. "Thinnest Wall," a song about an argument between two romantic partners, saw Thile managing to make his mandolin sound angry for a brief moment, ensuring none of the proceedings were deemed too serious for too long. This ensemble does not lose sight of music's ultimate purpose: to bring joy to a world always in need of more of it.
The songs about relationships made way for the topical songs. "21st of May" was about the latest rapture, told from the perspective of an eschatological preacher, which of course is hilarious because the rapture is something that should happen only once, not once per decade.
"Given my platform here, I'd be remiss not to get political," said Thile during this section, in an ostensibly serious moment. He kept a straight face while explaining that the United States Coast Guard has been eliminating lighthouses from government inventory these past few years, as GPS technology has largely rendered them obsolete. Considering the current political climate, this introduction to their song "The Lighthouse's Tale" was a moment of levity in what could easily have turned into a much more serious affair. To those who wish for music to be escapism, they breathed a sigh of relief. But soon after the band managed to have an audience of largely non-musicians clap their hands in bars of six beats instead of the usual four, Thile joked that he's moving to Canada. Anyone listening carefully enough knows well he wasn't just speaking about the poutine.
Nickel Creek's Kung fu isn't just their technical prowess, although that alone could have just as easily sustained them as a musical force for this long. There is no shortage of brilliant musicians with audiences almost entirely consisting of musicians. But this band plays for everyone. And even those who aren't musicians can still somehow comprehend that there are so few people who have ever lived that can play music at the level that these players now in their forties can with such ease and interminable joy. It's truly a rare feat.
Their vocal harmonies were ethereal, and there was even occasional choreography on stage. The visuals deserve a mention too, as the backdrop almost looked like a cross between a barn and the inside of a cathedral, which was more than appropriate. For those of us who haven't set foot in a church since their first communion, we still felt completely at home.
Seamless transitions between songs were made possible by the band's erudite tech who was at the ready to swap out their instruments as necessary, and even once during a song, where a guitar part moved from one musician to another as the change was made—truly a sight to behold. Thile went through multiple mandolins and even a bouzouki, while Sean Watkins played multiple guitars as well. Sara also played guitar on the final piece of the night, "Holding Pattern."
Every song had different lighting. The Handelian word painting has the lyric "holding" held for several beats, and the lighting also held itself in place to maximize the effect of the pregnant pause. As we were all filing out, I told their lighting tech how that last piece was beautifully lit. He was gracious, and said the feedback made his night. Being a tech is so often a thankless job, and they usually love it when such intricacies are highlighted to them. Like so many bands, Nickel Creek's techs are just as much a part of the family as the musicians.
The opening act was singer-songwriter Aoife O'Donovan, who delivered a set of seven mind-numblingly gorgeous pieces, the last of which was "Iowa," where she was joined by Juno Award-winning Toronto singer Donovan Woods. It was the kind of opening set that left you so satisfied that you almost forgot that there was still another two hours of music to come. Her last album, 2022's Age of Apathy, was nominated for a Grammy. It's not hard to see why.
O'Donovan's trio I'm With Her, which includes the aforementioned Sara Watkins as well as Sarah Jarosz, won a Grammy in 2019—proof that there is much exceptionally good music that is being appropriately recognized.
Nickel Creek is on tour through October, and Aoife O'Donovan is on many of the dates as well.
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