What decade is it now? Cindy LeeThe band's rise last year looked very much like the product of a previous generation of indie music: a niche artist whose DIY album (Diamond Jubilee) was picked up by blogs, which led them to top of year-end lists and such a success that the entire tour sold out. Similar things happened regularly in 2009, but never in 2024.
And then there's the music itself: '50s rock 'n' roll and '60s girl group pop combined with the synth-punk of Suicide and the haunting surrealism of David Lynch. The artist takes landmarks we've all heard a million times and turns them into something strange and disorienting: memorable, jagged and defiantly unquantified.
Having canceled last year's tour due to personal reasons, it seemed that the project could be ended forever, but Lee finally returned, this time acting Massey Halltwice the space of last year's concert in the Concert Hall. A merch table stacked with Lee's vinyl catalog and graphic T-shirts was the first hint that this year's tour is a well-oiled machine.
The public address system in Massey Hall began to beep, alerting fans in the lobby that the show would start in five minutes. But by the time I walked into the room a minute or two later, Lee was already on stage, crouched down and shredding the Gibson SG with jagged glass sound.
Dressed in a sparkly gold dress, with fluffy white shoulders and a black beehive haircut, Lee played the backing tracks, tweaking them slightly with a pair of pedals but mostly letting them play while he crooned in a ghostly, reverb-shrouded falsetto that sounded equal parts sweet and eerie.
A karaoke-style show like this could easily seem predictable or half-baked, but that was the only way it would work. All eyes were focused on Lee the entire time, with the lone diva shaking, occasionally grinning wryly and staring blankly up at her nosebleed, displaying equal parts aloofness and vulnerability.
Even when there was a moment that didn't quite live up to the glamorous image, such as when Lee briefly flashed his devil horns while returning for an encore, it added to the uncanny beauty; The shiny façade is made even more magnificent by the cracks on it.
The backing tracks provided a stunning sense of danger thanks to Lee's lively guitar playing. Working without a strap or stand, Lee would place the guitar on a stool and then walk toward it during instrumental passages—sometimes balancing it like a ukulele, sometimes holding it high, at one point even crouching down and playing it where it lay. Deft but flawed, virtuosic but abstract, screeching solos reveal the spirit of punk even in the most beautiful and pop songs.
Lee closed with a cover of Chad VanGaalen's “Burning Candle,” dedicated to “those who left us too soon,” and left with a wave of his hand just under an hour after taking the stage. It was a short set, but perfect for such a minimalist performance.
I only talked to two people about the show after that, and both of them called it “special.” There's no better word for it – a show that, after last year, felt like it would never happen and felt, for all intents and purposes, untethered to time.
