I always love shows at The Fillmore Detroit. Smaller artists mean smaller crowds and, when Matt Maltese (Hers) comes to town, a smaller stage. On a Friday night in October, Maltese stepped onto a softly lit stage, stepped behind his piano and the theater darkened to him, his croon, his energy.
Before Maltese and his incredible shrinking act, though, our night started with Cornelia Murr’s (Run to the Center) opening set. As Murr softly bounced between whistling through her tracks and saxophone solos, the friend I attended the show with whispered, “This is sexy AF.” When the vocals started, the crowd was spellbound by her cool tempos and fading falsetto. Murr channeled the energy of Dora Jar (Digital Meadow) as she meandered through “How Do You Get By,” “Pushing East” and a few covers. As she jammed out, two gym-short-wearing guys in the crowd, who I can only describe as “nonchalant,” silently nodded their heads in unison. Yeah. Murr’s got the power — speaking softly, carrying a large maraca.
In the break between her set and Maltese, spurred on by my nonchalant fellas, I people-watched a bit from the pit. Couples, a pair of friends in birthday hats and ’80s sweater-clad men filled in. Wandering by the merchandise stand, I noted with an eye roll the “Yearning University” hoodie being sold. Reluctantly taking back up my place in the back of the pit, I prepared myself as Maltese walked out with his boyish cut, took his spot at the center-stage piano and began to pluck into the first few, sparse lines of “Always Some MF.” His voice cut through the theater, a low and unaccompanied croon that floated through the silent crowd. Then, the saxophone came in, and sound filled the venue. The warm glow of the stage mirrored the effect of his building lyrics and crashing choruses. The couples embraced. The nonchalant men started to bounce their heads faster.
He played “Buses Replace Trains,” and, after informing us that the “tube” is the United Kingdom’s version of the subway (and is, in fact, better), went into “Curl Up and Die.” It was a slower, heartbeat of a song — Declan McKenna, declawed. Maltese banged this part of the set out on the piano, obscured by the dark heads of the crowd, band rising up behind him. Despite the full-bodied chorus of instruments filling the venue (even the clarinet made an appearance!), Maltese’s voice remained the focus of the show. One slow love ballad after another, the crowd continued to grow louder, sway a bit more, with each successive song — evidently, the intensity was picking up. There wasn’t much in his performance to prove it, though. He remained behind his piano, pounding out one song after another, eyes closed, stage shut.
About 45 minutes in, mic stands were pulled out. Maltese warned that we were in for another love song, quipping that they hadn’t played many of those already —sarcastically, of course; everyone had seen the “Yearning University” merchandise. Murr joined him on stage and they sang together. Maltese stepped up to his mic, but Murr and him hardly faced each other, lost in their intoned worlds, the crowd invited in only so far as their harmonies could reach us. After, Maltese returned to his bench.
When we found ourselves in the middle of “Irony Would Have It,” I started to get excited. There were guitar solos here. It’s not a song you sway to, but instead bob along with. It puts some pep into your step. But as much as I kept silently begging the man to open up his performance a little — if not in stepping away from the tined soundscapes then in at least stepping away from the piano — Maltese was glued to those keys and mic, eyes closed, engagement withheld. The internality of his love songs meshed well with a largely pared-back and reclusive performance. But while the crowd was expectant and encouraging, the artist remained unmoved.
By far the most engaging moments of the night came from the final few songs. Maltese jokingly revealed his plan to overtake the most famous version of “Happy Birthday” with his song, inviting one of the birthday-hat-clad friends onto the stage where we sang “Happy Birthday” to birthday-hat friend (David). Maltese then played “Like a Fish” and a couple other songs from his most recent album. “Cure for Emptiness” and “Anytime, Anyplace, Anyhow” were welcome breaks from the ballad-y trot we’d been living around up to this point. Finally, Maltese managed to break out of his self-imposed habitat for a few songs. The theater responded in kind, overflowing with gratitude after the obligatory encore call. It was here that Maltese came closest to broadening that stage a bit, connecting with his crowd. The mic stand covering his face seemed less of a barrier between him and the audience, and with “Everyone Adores You (At Least I Do),” a treat of a ballad, he closed out the show.
Senior Arts Editor Cora Rolfes can be reached at corolfes@umich.edu.
