Live Review: Into It. Over It., Zzzounds

If there's a venue in the Valley that comes anywhere close to being routinely as warm, welcoming and familial a live-music space as Black Bear Lodge — well, that can only be a good thing. After all, Black Bear Lodge is a pretty damn special little place, custom built for pretty damn special experiences, and it's evident from the outset that tonight's gig — headlined by revered Chicago indie/emo identity Into It. Over It. (aka Evan Weiss) — is going to deliver on that front in a big way.

Before the show, Weiss is manning the merchandise table, freely and affably chatting with anyone who comes up to scope out the wares to make purchasing decisions for later. He only arrived in town at three o'clock this afternoon, he tells us, after flying in from Sydney, where he spent his first four days in the country (including, in tandem with his first performance here, his 32nd birthday). It's a whirlwind visit to Queensland (he's off to Melbourne in the morning) but he nonetheless managed to find time to sneak out to Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary and hold a koala and his unbridled joy in recounting this event — in fact, his entire demeanour — is unbelievably charming.

Having held up the line long enough, we take a seat among the scattered chairs and tables for tonight's opening set from Sydney musician Dave Drayton, better known as Zzzounds (as well as a few other, less savoury monikers the guitarist self-deprecatingly prescribes himself). He takes his place on stage accompanied only by his guitar — 'sad white guy' is definitely the theme tonight and we're all absolutely here for it — but, Jesus, he doesn't need anything else. Maintaining an air of morose jocularity, he delivers a set of delightfully intricate, intimate tunes that consistently evoke the impressively technical tap-work dexterity of TTNG and the emotive honesty of Owen, all tied together with an unmistakably Aussie bent.

The sum of its parts amounts to an exceptional, enchanting and anecdote-laden performance as he sings about struggles with everything from employment and the dole to buying Spider-Man toothpaste as a grown adult. Naturally, it's a frequently light-hearted affair, buoyed further by Drayton's penchant for absurd and/or esoteric song titles, with some standouts including Hed (PDHPD); Cello, Brickface ("Ideally, if you're writing it, there's a comma between 'Cello' and 'Brickface'"); as well as What Bank Are You With? and Dental Plan For Peter Parker, the track about the aforementioned toothpaste. 

Still, the set hits several points of plaintive camaraderie for likely many of those in attendance, in moments such as when he lyrically reflects, "I've worked too hard to be this poor". That's not an empty or entitled whine, either — this is a seriously good guitarist, an engaging storyteller and a consummate performer. To hear him vocally straddle the line between 'having a sense of humour about life's travails' and 'laughing literally just so you're not crying any more' over the course of his performance is just a little bit heartbreaking, though, and one suspects his plea for punters to pick up some merch, so he can afford an Uber to the airport, is only half a joke. It's a solid marketing strategy either way though and, given the bountiful strengths of his performance, it works easily on this writer.

Soon after Zzzounds departs, Into It. Over It. hits the stage in similarly minimalist fashion, accompanied by a trusty acoustic and his copious charms, and the small but attentive crowd collectively leans in with bated breath.

We don't lean in quite close enough, as it turns out, as Weiss encourages us to move our tables and chairs closer to the stage — a request some literally race to fulfil as we jostle for prime positions mere centimetres from the performer. While we're rearranging, he explains the existing table layout felt reminiscent of the phenomenon of the 'Fuck You Horseshoe', an audience formation that people seem to default into at punk and alternative shows that leaves a wide net of open space around bands and artists, a physical barrier to a sense of connection. And, no, that would not do here at all.

With the crowd now tightly knit around performer, the gig — despite being one of Weiss's first-ever shows in the country — immediately transcends its origins as a room full of strangers to palpably become like a gathering of old friends. Without further ado, Weiss kicks off with The Frames That Used To Greet Me, the closing track from second record 2011's Proper (it, too, recently celebrated a birthday, turning five a few days ago), and just the first treat in a wide-ranging set that dips into pretty much every era of his prolific back-catalogue. At the merch table earlier, he commented that his allergies were giving him a bit of grief; there is absolutely no sign of it once he opens his mouth and sonic honey pours out. He is, simply, an incredible vocalist and instrumentalist in all regards.

Like his support act, Weiss proves an adept and affable yarn-spinner, interspersing his near-flawless musical offerings with banter of the kind that makes one truly understand what an art form it is. He moves into New North-Side Air, which opens Intersections, the 2013 follow-up to Proper, and explains that it sounds a lot like The Frames... because he was going for a thematic, or at least musical, cohesion that he admits probably wasn't as visionary as he thought at the time. It's still utterly wonderful, though.

Given the breadth of scope and quality of performance, the entire outing is basically a dream show for fans old and new, hitting a chain of early highlights with beautiful renditions of Midnight: Carroll Street — and an unexpected delight in the form of a cover of Everyone Everywhere's Raw Bar OBX 2002, dedicated to the talented Mr Drayton — as well as Contractual Obligation and Pinky Swear, a cut from nascent 2009 project 52 Weeks. "I'm gonna play a song off that that I routinely mess up every time I play it," he admits, introducing the song. "The song is so simple that I psych myself out."

Not this time, though — Weiss friggin' nails it, punching the air in victory and earning rapturous applause from his appreciative audience. He celebrates by busting out a sublime version of Proper opener Embracing Facts and fellow standout Connecticut Steps before giving the audience a choose-your-own-adventure style decision to make between old songs or new. "I was gonna play all the same songs anyway," Weiss says. "You just dictated the order." So it is that we're treated to a batch of fresh tunes from this year's release Standards, clearly the work with which people are most familiar here (nothing wrong with that). He blitzes reflective opener Open Casket, the creeping groove of Who You Are ≠ Where You Are, the punchy roll of Closing Argument and manages to make the usually percussion-centred No EQ utterly shine with just his voice and six strings up his sleeve. 

From here, the show becomes even more memorable as Weiss turns it into an audience-request session, with both perennial, widely known favourites such as No Good Before Noon and Upstate Blues — the latter of which is seamlessly transitioned into from the former following some fancy tuning beforehand — and deep, deep cuts, such as 52 Weeks track We Organize Your Life, getting thrown up, though Weiss concedes on that last one, being a song he has not, and does not, play live. It's more than made up for with a brilliant one-two punch of Spinning Thread and Brenham, TX — which brings with it a somewhat hilarious mid-song realisation from Weiss that his chorus pattern accidentally treads on U2's With Or Without You — before saying farewell with Augusta, GA, and Anchor and hinting that we'll hopefully see him back on our shores, with full band in tow, next year.

Given that this particular show will live on in this writer's memory as easily one of the singular best musical experiences he's ever had, that day honestly cannot come soon enough.