Sia live

Sia
Martyrs’, Chicago
Wednesday, April 12, 2006

It was an uncommonly warm April evening in Chicago on the 12th. There was an insubstantial threat of rain and the wind moved briskly, but nothing else was amiss, although the moon turning full. But could that cliché omen explain why Australian starlet Sia was crazy with a capital Z at Martyrs’?

When she spoke to IE this past winter, little seemed out of the ordinary other than a full-body laugh and a propensity for nervous shots at herself. Her music — solo and singing for Zero 7 — rarely moves above a mild stroll, almost exclusively downtempo and bringing its head up occasionally for a more lighthearted chat. Even so, while singing on Wednesday night she never abandoned character, often spinning entire verses with her eyes shut and staying still in the warm glow of the stage lights.

It was between those songs she’d go absolutely bonkers, accepting applause by clapping maniacally and crunching her face as if her fingers were caught in a vice. Banter would fly out of her mouth like rounds from a Gatlin gun, setting a comical contrast to her band of whom she joked didn’t have their throats ripped out by her before the show. Eh? She forced uncomfortable laughter upon the sold-out crowd as if they were muttering, “Honey, get me the shotgun.”

It was enough to almost — almost — sink her songs (as she pretended to) while introducing them. Once “Breathe Me,” “Butterflies,” and “Numb” would begin, however, the acid trip would end, and the shadowy feeling of listening too often to Portishead would set in. Sia is a gifted vocalist maybe with more talent than she knows how to handle, frequently filling space with many notes where one or none would do. It was a sure sign the kinetic energy she couldn’t control after songs was working its way through her during them. At some points, a break in the music seemed only a chance for her to spontaneously combust in a vapor of hysteric giggling. Laughter might be the best medicine, but whatever ails Sia has caused her to overdose.

— Steve Forstneger

Category: Live Reviews, Weekly