It’s been a long, hot summer in Eugene. I to moved to Oregon from Texas only a year ago and I wasn’t exactly thrilled to be facing temperatures that were matching my relatives’ thermostats in Houston. I needed something to usher in the fall. I’m not a football fan, so the Duck’s opening stomping of some helpless C-list team didn’t put me in the autumn mood. What did bring in the spirit of orange leaves and pumpkin pie was Mother Falcon and Kan Wakan’s performance in Eugene.
I wasn’t even planning on going to the show, I was suffering
from allergies when I remembered I was due at University of Oregon’s radio
station KWVA to host a performance by Kan Wakan. I went in with sleepy eyes and
a nagging cough, but felt lifted after their short set in studio. Their work
convinced me to at least see part of their set, and I am beyond glad I did.
While in the station, Kan Wakan had stripped down their set,
but on a full stage they brought more power to their nuanced sound. Their
debut dropped a few months ago, and they culled from the dark cinematic soul
music of that record. There was a lovely ambiance to it all, it was mood music,
certainly, but was also deeply engaging, a hard balance to strike. This was
due in part to frontwoman K.P’s tremendous vocal work. She was fantastically
flexible from track to track, able to bring things down to a low simmer, only
to push out raw power in the set’s more energetic moments. Perhaps even more
impressive was drummer Amir Oosman’s work. Budding percussionists should study
his talents; Oosman was able to propel the songs along without ever being
flashy, but if you paid close attention you could pick out the complex rhythms
he used so naturally and effortlessly. Their closing track was the 11 minute
long epic “Midnight Moon” that sounded like the love child of Ennio Morricone and
Pink Floyd, its mesmerizing quality was bolstered by Mother Falcon’s Sterling
Steffen as he jumped on stage to burst out a raging saxophone solo.
After Kan Wakan finished, all 56 members of Mother Falcon (I
might be rounding up a bit) trickled on stage. Their performance has me coining
a new genre “chamber-punk.” The mounds of strings and brass they add lean
towards the works of fellow chamber composers San Fermin, but there was an
energetic ethos here that spoke more to bands like Fucked Up or Titus
Andronicus. During one of the set’s dancier parts, Steffen and fellow sax
player Andrew Fontenot rushed into the crowd to play a fevered duet. A 3rd
of the way through Mother Falcon’s performance, the entirety of the crowd was
standing in front of the stage, dancing and swaying to the mad rush of the
music. “Marigold” had beautiful, fluttering moments balanced by the crazed
march of strings, “Sleep” waltzed romantically along and “Porcelain” drew the
crowd in with a rare hypnotizing trot. Trumpeter Matt Krolick stood stoically
in the midst of it all, flashing brilliant solos and lines between cascading
string movements. Mother Falcon smartly
delivered moments of quiet introspection between the more frenetic and harsh
tracks, allowing for precious minutes to breathe and rest before the next
frantic song.
Single “Dirty Summer” summed the show up in a neat three
minute race. The Arcade Fire style “whoa-ohs” had the audience screaming along,
and the start-stop motions of the horns made the venue shudder and jitter as
those golden notes demanded everyone dance. I was giddy and dizzy as their
final notes faded, a sentiment I shared with a good portion of the audience,
who often paused to take long breaths of shock as songs ended. I felt in a
state of bliss as I biked my way home; the state was so strong that I found
myself singing showtunes as I road through the night. Take that as a high note
of praise, Mother Falcon is one of the finest live bands I’ve ever had the
pleasure to see. 
