Patrick Watson

It is another cold and rainy night here in Amsterdam. The sky has opened up and a storm of biblical proportions engulfs the city in an instant. As I coast on my omafiets down the pond-infested roads, I think to myself, “why tonight?”

Reaching the Paradiso close to the end of opening act Voicst’s set, I am treated to a barrage of sound from these Amsterdam indie rockers, but all that is quickly wiped from my memory when Patrick Watson and company set up shop. As the bearded Canadian and his band mates take to the stage of one of Amsterdam’s finest venues, they are greeted by an overwhelming applause by a sold-out crowd. They quickly launch into the opening and title track off the 2006 album, Close to Paradise. Fluttering his fingers across the keys as if possessed, we see Watson’s love for music emanating from his being, becoming one with the rhythm, falling down the rabbit hole at its beautiful mercy.

Anybody who has heard Patrick Watson’s angelic voice knows the man has oodles of talent. Any of those who have been lucky enough to have seen the 2007 Polaris Prize-winning musician perform live realises that he is one of the most gifted musicians to be coming out of Canada at this very moment. After seeing Watson and his band blow Cold War Kids out of the water at the Melkweg last year, I didn’t think I’d ever see another performance quite like it. Of course, I am quickly proved wrong.

There is something unique about a Patrick Watson set that seems to get more improvisational as the orchestral-influenced songs progress. The peak of these brilliance-infused compositions is what has now been established as a well known party trick in his shows. Watson, dragging his piano bench out into the middle of the crowd, perches atop, and along with guitarist and long time friend Simon Angell, they position themselves in the middle of the action, to perform a not just acoustic version, but sans-microphone version of ‘Man Under the Sea’. Watson shouts, “this one’s dedicated to the Paradiso!”, and after conducting the audience through the song’s refrain, jumps back onstage to continue this improvisational journey, opening up his grand piano to pluck along, to the closing rhythm of the tune, puffing away at what must be his second box of cigarettes this evening, shaking his head sporadically like a maddened composer.

Now, more than ever, the band are playing regular sold-out shows, and with due right. With Watson and his band of francophonic gentlemen really getting into the performance, they move through beautiful, sad and strange ballads like ‘Luscious Life’, ‘Weight of the World’, ‘The Great Escape’, and ‘Slip Into Your Skin’. They seem to be able to command a crowd like no other, leaving us gobsmacked with, what seems like, a simple sleight of hand. By the end of it, the lot of us are clapping along to what I gather is ‘Bright Shiny Lights’, and I can feel a certain harmony in the air, balancing out and culminating everyone’s feelings into that moment: the band are into it, Pat is definitely into it, and the crowd? Well, let’s just say they know what he’s talking about. Looking around at all the smiling faces I feel, that there, is proof enough of the irremovable impression that we’re left with.