Feist concert review, in two sentences:

1. The most amazingly dynamic live act I have ever been privy to attend, and oh! the guitar riffs.

2. “Easily ranked in my top five concerts of all time,” Chris says quickly, still grinning giddily, which, taking into account his musical background (he is a musician; he doesn’t talk about it much and he probably won’t ever play in front of you, but he’s an incredible guitarist, and used to play in front of you, in Nashville, Alabama, and California) and his concert history alone is quite an admission.

The longer, potentially more interesting version, with pictures!:

Our tickets to the show at The Schnitzer were purchased last minute, on Monday of this week, after my very own musically savvy Hans (I have her to thank for introducing me to Nora Jones, Sarah McLachlan and The Indigo Girls) told Chris and I a story that included her scoring (my drawing the best straw! literally) a THIRD ROW seat to see Feist on Tuesday.

I was still reveling in her amazing straw-drawing skills when Chris exclaimed “Feist! Is coming HERE? WTF?” as he had already checked show listings for her, wanting to take me to see her live, so long had he been listening and loving her (musically of course, ahem), but thinking, as was (falsely) advertised, that the closest she was showing was in Seattle.

There is a lesson to be learned here, and I think it goes a little something like: don’t believe The Internet always, especially when it comes to concert listings. Rather, believe your rad straw-drawing friends who tell you they are going thus proving the concert does indeed EXIST. Then, buy tickets.

We met the straw-drawing-extraordinaire before the show for drinks and flatbread at South Park, a cozy, dimly lit, mirror-laden bar and restaurant boasting an impressively long and delicious wine list, city-famous hamburgers (they are amazing and taste home-grilled), and a particularly lovely Newcastle 1554 on tap. When we arrived at 6pm there was plenty of open seating. By 7:15pm it was standing room only, and we sat enjoying our beverages silently congratulating ourselves on having stellar timing. Or, that could have just been me; I’m excited about stellar timing, especially because I don’t typically have it. Example, the thirtieth: I brought Cayly’s (AUGUST) birthday present along last night, because, see, I am nothing if not on time for such yearly celebrations.

(Sidenote: I’ve noticed my beers keep getting darker; I don’t know what this means, but I’m embracing it as long as they keep tasting as good as they do.)

Feist opened with When I was a young girl and closed with Mushaboom and played every song a fan would have requested by shouting unabashedly from the crowd (and even some they would never think to) in between, including Secret Heart, My Moon My Man, I Feel It All, Past In Present, Honey Honey, Brandy Alexander, I’m Sorry, and 1,2,3,4.

She was beyond incredible live, and in my opinion far better than she is on any album. She is eclectic and funky, full of energy and intelligence, and while she’s performing and even afterward everything she does is vibrant, every movement is riddled with endless talent and endless passion.

As if sheer jaw-dropping skill wasn’t enough, she is also extremely approachable and funny. Toward the end of the show she invited anyone in the audience with desire and insanity enough to stand up in front of 3,000 people to occupy the stage for five minutes, with freedom to do and perform anything they wanted. A talent show of sorts, she called it. There were two takers, and while neither of them were overwhelmingly talented, they were shockingly brave and an entire nearly full auditorium clapped and whistled and cheered for them both.

In between two songs she playfully made mention of how long the set was, and (unnecessarily) apologized, but oh, how much fun they were having playing in Portland because the band was originally formed in Portland, their first gig at the Doug Fir, where in September Chris, Cayly and I spent an entire evening while Chris and I started our post-honeymoon trek away from the coast and back through Portland.

She talked about how she wondered about how many people had glowing screens in their pockets, and asked everyone to hold out their cell phones on and open because the lights to them from the stage looked light thousands of little lightning bugs. At the end of the show one of her band mates took it a step further and asked everyone to make their cell phones ring (tone), and the auditorium instantly filled with an audible buzz.

The only negative to the entire evening had nothing to do with Feist but with The Annoying Couple Sitting Behind Us (the man looked a bit like Kris Kristofferson, with hair as long, and silver) who was clearly on a first or third date and didn’t appreciate the courtesy of NOT chatting when the show begins, and who didn’t seem to understand that intros to songs while performed live are not like ads before previews at movies, or even previews themselves, and thus, YOU DON’T TALK THROUGH THEM. Especially when you are listening to a musician as talented as Leslie Feist, and if you want to TALK go to a bar or the middle of a busy street already.

Everyone who left five minutes before, at the “end” of the show (wimps), or even before that, missed a stunning encore starting with Sea Lion and boasting the most impressive lights and most dynamic screen backdrops, complete with dancing light-puppet legs:

She then did Let it Die and finished amazingly with (the entire auditorium on their feet) Mushaboom.

My skin goes instantly tingly whenever I think about it. If she is performing anywhere near you, GO. The tickets were affordable, the seats (even from the stratosphere) incredible, the way she so intensely rocks the entire show? Unforgettable.