- Webster Hall, the East Village venue built in 1886, is the ideal place for an artist like Nicolas Jaar to showcase his wide-ranging sound. Originally, it hosted meetings of socialist organizations, then it became famous for its masquerade balls attended by the city’s bohemian set. During prohibition it was a speakeasy, rumored to have been owned by Al Capone. Today, Webster Hall is most famous for hosting a range of music across five rooms, making it one of the few places in the city where you can see a rock, hip-hop and electronic act all in the same night.
The venue has a club space, but Jaar's performance took place in the 1,500-capacity Grand Ballroom. There was no opening act or VIP area, which meant the crowd was made up of punters more into experimental music and moody head-bobbing than taking selfies. As people filed in, the loudspeaker blasted out a bland mix of hip-hop and dance. Jarr's setup stood ominously in a sea of red light and fog.
People bought drinks and sat around the ballroom, restless for the show to start. When Jaar appeared, the crowd cheered loudly, though they were soon hushed by the hypnotic opening track, an ambient number accentuated by clean white strobes piercing through the mist. The lighting guys at Webster Hall deserve a shout-out. The performance was a tasteful example of how an electronic show can be enhanced but not overpowered by lighting: there was a fog machine, a few colored beams and some strobes, which combined brilliantly to mask the transitions between Jaar's experimental and more dance floor-friendly productions.
The Chilean-American artist's latest album, Sirens, combines a wide palette of influences into a mesmerizing swirl of synthesizers, delay and a beautifully melancholic piano, all of which were showcased in his live performance. Jaar also brought out his heavily reverberated bass clarinet and vocal stylings for a few numbers, getting the crowd to sing along to the haunting Spanish lyrics of "No."
That was one of few recognisable tracks. Working off an array of digital and analog instruments, Jaar had ample room to improvise, taking the crowd to places they'd never been before. During one particular passage, arpeggios, drones and found samples enveloped the room in a lush soundscape that slowly bloomed into the euphoric saxophone of "The Governor." As the track's familiar tones burst through the dense layers of sound, the crowd responded in warm appreciation. By building bridges between various points on the electronic spectrum, Jaar's performance offered a glimpse into what a world without genre boundaries might look like.
Photo credit /
Akhil Kalepu