Carly Rae Jepsen, The Fonda Theatre, Los Angeles, 2/25/16
A typical Carly Slay Jepstan endures a particular sequence of grief stages over why their ~fave~ still hasn’t taken over the world, and this often aligns with album cycles. It’s like the Kübler-Ross model for poptimists. Stage One involves giddy chatter, in the form of tweets, impassioned reviews, and repeat spins, of whatever our Lord Jepsus has just released: it’s so good, so so so good. Stage Two involves the harsh reality of said release barely making impact, just a blip halfway down the Hot 100 chart. Stage Three is the denial, in which we hold our CRJ heart lockets to our chest and assume the problem lies elsewhere: nonsensically staggered album release dates, casual listeners’ laziness and inability to dislodge the howling refrain of “ONE HIT WONDER” hardwired into their brains since 2012. Stage 4 is the last: the year-end cycle revives the discourse, reaffirms our love for the release, and allows us the time to reckon with the cold truth. No matter how good Emotion was, no matter that the fans packed around me at the very front of the sold out Fonda Theater last Thursday could sing back all the words to her with glee, no matter all that… the majority of the world only knows the constant of Carly Rae Jepsen = “Call Me Maybe”. (And also Grease Live, maybe? Was that a thing?) Jepsen made a second album, led by a catchy single bundled with a fun video and another Bieber co-sign. That was followed up with more singles, each heart-stopping and exquisite. The critical circle around me, self included, devoured it. The fish in the mainstream didn’t bite.
Live performances, in my estimation, are the most powerful ways to change someone’s mind on matters like these. More than studio recordings, shows provide the corporeality that a glossy album cover cannot; seeing the artist create their music on stage – aided by flashing lights, the dynamism of several more figures onstage, and a substantial volume boost – conjures a sympathy and respect for how much work goes into their craft. Doing that while being a talented, high-quality artist like Jepsen is merely a bonus. And despite the presence of frustratingly myopic takes on her LA show, Jepsen did more than demonstrate her capability as a pop star with a consistent, stellar catalog. Her 21-song set (composed of most of Emotion, along with the singles from Kiss) was an extended dance party, emotional and lighthearted at the appropriate moments, never too serious. And yes, she did perform “Call Me Maybe.” More on that later.
“This is so romantic!” Carly exclaimed as she came up the stairs to the Fonda’s balcony, where I and twelve other nervous fans stood in a line for a meet and greet. She wasn’t wrong: the view down Hollywood Boulevard was modestly lit, like Times Square dimmed to a comforting hum. Carly wondered if that should be the backdrop of the photos she’d be taking with each of us; her handler opted for the dark, less busy side of the building. Then, one at a time, the receiving line gave their phones to the handler, walked up to Carly Rae Jepsen, hugged her, and snapped a photo. I was toward the end of the line, giving me ample time to worry about what to say.
Buying a ticket for the LA show when Carly announced the tour was a given. Shelling out extra for the VIP meet and greet took some thought. The painful memory of not meeting her when I very easily could have a year and a half ago still haunted me — a story that to my friends was cutely pitiful but to me was tainted with shame and self-hatred and despair over social anxiety getting the better of me – and this show presented me with the chance to redeem myself. For whatever reason, it was very important that I tell her about that moment. In the weeks leading up to the date, I worried about what the interaction would be like. I worried that it would be too brief, just a quick photo and disinterested “hi” (i.e. when I met Jessie J). I worried that it would be a group meet-up, and I would be snuffed out by more assertive fans who would talk her ear off. And despite all indications telling me that this wouldn’t be the case with Carly, there was that old fear of your favorite star being cold and detached in person. But when she came up the stairs, a calm instilled itself in me, right next to the butterflies.
The fans in front of me went up, one by one, lapping her with compliments on how much they loved Emotion, or that they wrote about her for their university paper. One asked her to jump on his back and strike a pose for the photo, to which she happily obliged. As much as I didn’t appreciate waiting, it was comforting to see the other fans given time to say what they needed to say. Within minutes, it was my turn. I smiled as I walked up to her, we hugged, and I tried to deliver my monologue. “I have a quick story,” I said. She gave a quick “aw” as I explained how I was too shy to say hi, which barely registered at the time, since the words kept tumbling out because I didn’t want to waste her time or be weird but then because of that the end of my story i.e. the whole point of telling it was that I had come full circle and I was meeting her now but that kind of got lost as I started to mumble and jumble my words and I may have blacked out for a few seconds as I finished the story and we turned to face my phone and the handler took a photo of me smiling like an idiot. I wished her a good show and walked downstairs to the main floor, legs still wobbling slightly. I had just met Carly Rae Jepsen.
My fellow meet ’n’ greeters had planted themselves at the very front of the theater space, leaning on the security fence confidently, like they owned the area. It was an odd sight, since doors hadn’t opened, and the space was empty. I debated what to do in the hour before the show began; explore the venue, get a drink, ask if they had fries. It didn’t take long for social anxiety to kick in, and the sight of myself aimlessly wandering around the venue alone scared me. So I joined the line at the front, like one of those superfans who camped outside the venue for two days. As I sifted through social media apps, refreshing the likes on my Carly Rae pic, I began to view the “VIP” experience as more than the photo and hug. I felt a subtle camaraderie with the other fans, despite only saying a few words to them throughout the night. And I was able to get a spot at the very front of the space, with nothing separating me and the artist save the couple of press photographers in front of me on the other side of the metal fence.
The show moved efficiently (I’ve never been at a show this punctual with set times), with quick change overs and brief performances from two solid openers: all-guitar trio The Fairground Saints offered close harmonies and solid songwriting along with a fine, if perfunctory, “Love Yourself” cover (really, that song must be getting covered a million times nightly in cafés across the world by untalented strummers; it could have been much worse); and Cardiknox, whose sharp, uplifting electropop worked well on-stage, despite singer Lonnie Angle’s tendency to stare at audience members like she was about to murder them (at one point we locked eyes and she pointed a finger gun at me while singing the lyric “pull the trigger”; consider me #slayed). The crowd, from my very limited perspective at the front, went along with them and cheered and danced. It was a refreshingly supportive crowd, unlike most of the past concerts I’ve attended, where most of the crowd don’t give a shit about the openers and talk over them. There was never a doubt that we were really there for one person, but for those two sets, The Fairground Saints and Cardiknox might as well have been the headliners. But when the opening saxophone strains of “Run Away With Me” cut through the cheering, I felt my knees go weak. This is why I’m here. The knowledge that the massive, life-affirming chorus was on its way during the light verse twisted the audience into one knot. The release was as explosive as I’d hoped and more. And then the rest of the show happened.
On the way to the concert, I played Kiss and Emotion together on shuffle, which demonstrated the huge difference between the two albums. If Kiss was a hard candy, Emotion is a Michelin-rated dessert. Both are delightful, but Kiss is sugary and compact and giddy, while Emotion is complex and rich and deep. The contrast worked well with the show, as Jepsen peppered the Emotion songs with fun throwbacks to her older material (yes, this included “Good Time,” unfortunately) without any dips in enthusiasm. Fun was the motif; Jepsen beamed through many of the songs, and I truly got the sense she was being herself. It was a refreshing change from the professional SRS-face that Cardiknox held. Her demeanor allowed the audience to enjoy the show with her. She was performing for us, sure, but it felt like a house party, six of whose guests decided to clear a space and put on a show. Listening to Carly Rae Jepsen’s music, in the car or while running or writing, is already an enjoyable experience; to hear them live, manifested as a tangible experience, was amazing. On the line from “Tiny Little Bows” “I wish we could be holding hands,” she reached out her hand, I reached out mine, and she took it, as we repeated the line at each other. “Let’s Get Lost,” “I Didn’t Just Come Here to Dance,” and “When I Needed You” became the certified dance jams they so obviously have been this whole time. Jepsen brought to life the narrative of “Boy Problems,” directing the conversation at the audience as well as her two backup singers.
Like her music, some of the most powerful moments of her show came when, in between the fun, she caught you off guard with a gut-punch of emotion. It made for a roller coaster of an experience, the way she threw out these aces, the way “Tonight I’m Getting Over You” finally made sense to me, the way the plea of “I will be your friend!” in “All That” brought tears to my eyes, the way her fist clenched along with her voice on the line “the way you’re making me feeeeel”. “Warm Blood,” as it turned out, was the highlight of the night. The recorded version’s pulsing low-end translated well to the live arrangement, and the lights switched from their usual illuminating blue to a deep red. Jepsen’s silhouette of black and red became the only visible thing in the room, like we’d all been transported into a pumping vein. It was otherworldly. Between the big arrangements, more highlights arrived in the quiet moments of the show, where the clarity of her voice cut right through: in the first verse and chorus of “Warm Blood”; on a short, acoustic version of “Curiosity” toward the end of the set.
And then there was “Call Me Maybe.” As her band re-entered the stage after “Curiosity,” Carly made a stipulation: she would play the next song, but only “if you sing it with me… because I’ve played it a few too many times.” It was immediately clear what the song was. The strange thing was, however, that “Call Me Maybe,” a song that people refuse, often intentionally, to disentangle from the name Carly Rae Jepsen, felt the least like her song that night. In that moment, like it did four years ago, it was everyone’s song. So of course she had fun with it, singing the chorus at her bandmates and pointing her microphone at the audience. After the “missed you so so bad!” before the final breakdown, Carly imitated the audience’s shout-singing: “baaaa!” she laughed into the mic. She then asked us to repeat the “baaa”. I tried to but failed, because I started laughing uncontrollably at how glorious the whole situation was. Carly Rae Jepsen had taken her career-defining song and asked the audience to baa like a sheep during it. It felt like an empowering fuck-you to all the detractors who continually box her in. From there the high energy maintained, as she and the band bounded into her closing song, “I Really Like You” – a perfect pairing, as that song is basically the evolution (Pokémon-style) of “Call Me Maybe.” True to the fun, casual nature of Jepsen’s performance, she brought her band to the front of the stage at the end and did a cast bow. There was no pretense about Carly Rae Jepsen, The Superstar that night, just the highly capable performance of someone who perhaps is aware of how much she is underrated. We’ve talked ourselves blue about how much Carly Rae Jepsen can offer musically. Now it’s time to explore how much she can offer on stage.
