Seattle Subsonic

Priscilla Ahn Is Talented…And Also A Complete Goofball

September 4th, 2008

So, I’m not quite sure how many of you blog-peekers read Filter Magazine (or any print periodical, for that matter), but if you don’t, go check out your local Sonic Boom and give it a whirl. It’s the only music mag I make an effort to buy and read regularly, so it’s safe to call it highly recommended. Since I discovered the publication back in 2005 when it was only about ten issues old, I’ve been exposed to a ton of music through its offbeat and savvy industry introspection, its timely and informative interviews, and its myriad record reviews present in every issue. They even examine independent movies, often talking with the director, and generally include some sort of non-music-related art feature. A cornucopia of cultured goodies, if you will.

 

But this isn’t a review of Filter, it’s a review of Priscilla Ahn, a Korean-American Pennyslvania-bred goofball of a folksinger with a lilting, sugary voice and a fancy for the whimsical. I first heard about the crafty chanteuse in their latest issue, and when said magazine gave me the chance to see her “LIVE! at the Triple Door” last Tuesday (8/26), I snatched it up. I honestly hadn’t given her album much more than one listen prior to the show, so my expectations, while somewhat uninformed, weren’t very lofty.

 

 

Aside from the fact that she’s an extremely talented songwriter—the kind that belies “major label” status these days (her debut, A Good Day, was released by Blue Note Records in June)—she’s also a complete ham in between songs. Of course it was interesting to hear her perform a wonderfully sad “Lullaby” about dying dogs, but it was the hilariously morbid story about a cop in her hometown of Bernville, PA who needlessly shot a local pup six (SIX!) times she said was the inspiration for the song that truly sucked us in. Or the story she recounted about a lame house-party she attended after moving to L.A. where she and her friend simply tried to imitate those around them for entertainment that spawned “Wallflower”. Her nervous, popgun laughter peppered throughout her stories made her all the more affable and charming. When her jokes began, I didn’t think they’d be funny, but by the end I found myself hootin’ right along with her and everybody else.

 

 

Musically, though, she kept the intrigue, using a harmonica, kazoo (!) and live vocal loops to flesh out her otherwise sparse musings. And while her songs are mostly minimalistic, she did turn it up a notch for “Red Cape”, a rollicking little number reminiscent of the playfulness found on Laura Veirs’ excellent Year of Meteors. Ahn played just about every song on her album, plus a few more, and most involved the help of Gus Seyffert on bass. Seyffert, a long-haired lanky fellow who performs under the name Willoughby (there may or may not be more band members—sarcasm’s a bitch), opened the show with a quirky set of guitar-and-sample songs that were just as heartfelt and pondering as Ahn’s. They had the added distinction of reminding us of early Beach Boy demos convoluted by the magnificent angst of Elliott Smith.

 

 

Check out the tracks below to see exactly what I been sayin’ about Ms. Ahn. You’ll be able to catch her again (presumably with Willoughby) October 3rd in Portland at the Aladdin Theater and October 4th at Neumos.

 

Wallflower - Priscilla Ahn

 

Red Cape - Priscilla Ahn

 

Lullaby - Priscilla Ahn