Andy Shauf plays Norm during Spring 2023 in Vermont

The first line at the concert was a thinker.

God mulls: / What happens when they die? Maybe eternal life? / Track one, side one of his newest record Norm.

Norm is a rock opera, so it made sense to perform it chronologically. He did so and I enjoyed his sandwich strategy: playing side A fully, mixing it up with some favorites, and then closing out with side B, with an encore, fancy toothpick of The Magician on top.

One thing that struck me was how the guitar faded into the background. For being “multi-instrumentalist” singer-songwriter, many of his songs still lead with the guitar on the recordings. This show nudged it to the back for 90% of the time — often using it to fulfill its original purpose as a rhythm instrument. He chose humility, putting the song in the spotlight instead of himself. Similar to his choice to put leafy greens between him and the spotlight on stage. An earthy take on a front-man wearing sunglasses.

His music swells.

He knows how to use a rest and how to work with silence. During the quieter moments, the crowd got to murmuring, which annoys a super-fan but I also understood. At times the band resembled ambient background lounge music, or veered towards a cocktail jazz band playing to small tables. Maybe murms are just part of being a quieter, understated band. As he gained more control over the crowd, the murmurs were silent.

He let his personality shine some during the three banter-breaks, where he asks the audience if they have any questions. His awkwardness is very relatable, as told by the crowd cracking up to this question. He leans into it. He writes about it in his reoccurring themes of unrequited love and dabbles of self-hatred. He skips questions about a Foxwarren reboot and answers what he’s had for dinner. It was chicken. And it was good. He takes a deeper one delving into the story behind Norm’s name. Then, we learn he has no pets. We’re getting to know Andy. This is the beginning of a friendship.

When the music swells loudly, he has the crowd in the palm of his hand. All six players jam at once at the climax and the crowd eats it up. Twin clarinets, synth, bass, the expressive, one non-stoic band-mate drummer all crash together. It’s rare to hear distortion in his music, but during the show he breaks out the Silvertone to treat us to its gritty sound during these electrifying swells. He’s at his most rock ‘n’ roll. Repeating his stanky riff on the low strings as we buoy and ask for more.

Midlake comes to mind as they also feature a multi-flute setup and even had foliage on stage during a Boston show I attended in 2010. Maybe the flutes demand greenery. One can’t see stage plants and not think of Kurt’s lilies on Nirvana unplugged, especially with Shauf’s shoulder-length locks. As a whole, Shauf’s tunes are more upbeat and bright than Midlake’s deep forest jams. I appreciate them both weaving in winds to rock. On the album Neon Skyline he traded some clarinet for guitar, but live, the instruments’ weights were reversed. These versions felt more Andy, if that’s possible.

When I caught him on his Magician tour in Montreal back in 2016, I was once again captivated by the drummer’s performance. Even thought it was s different one. In his songs, the drums are typically hushed, sparse, and jazzy, especially so live. They’re not just for rhythm. They bring they’re own distinctive voice to the musical conversation. Both of the drummers during those sets were infectious to watch as they look like they’re having the best time. Also, both were placed at the front of the stage, off to one side, rather than in the typical center-back position.

Watching those passionate drummers made me wonder if something gets lost when one produces their own record, playing every instrument and writing each part. Which is his usual process. Despite my admiration for Norm’s brilliance, with its 70’s disco flair and tasty synths that lock music and themes to characters, as well as it’s damn unique thought-experiment of...

what if God didn’t understand love?

I couldn’t help but wonder what it would look like with more than one mind in the crucible of creation. What if we threw a Paul into the mix? This curiosity was further piqued when the drummer captured us all with a solo. How many drum solos have you heard this year? This one was good. He had me on the edge, trying to anticipate where he would take us next. Each new moment was an eye-squinting, head-bobbing surprise. What if he helped write some tunes?

Andy is a storyteller who happens to do music. He even hired a story editor to help him tighten up the story into yummy songs. It was no surprise when he said in a podcast that a book or series of short stories might be on the horizon.

I’ve never considered myself writer. Just a designer. That’s a reflection of my psyche and warped expectations about what it means to be a writer and how if you can’t write fast, you’re no good. Also it touches on something deeper of not thinking I have anything to say. But, here we are. Maybe this blog is my public questioning of these beliefs. I’ve photographed music but never written about it. It’s odd because music has been a consistant character in my life. It’s just never worked its way into words. It’s a connection I’ve maintained since teenage years, when many of us seek out its partnership. While that connection may drop off for others, I’ve held onto it tightly, refusing to be stuck in a playlist from my formative years.

Here’s to writing what you know.