With a name like “Tallest Man on Earth,” a few questions may come to mind. And the answer to most of them is “no.” First of all, it’s not a band but a single singer/songwriter named Kristian Matsson. No, he’s not from south, the west or the U.S. for that matter. He’s from Sweden. No, English is not his first language. But yes, he does seem superhuman in his musical abilities.
While I was certainly familiar with Matsson’s EP and LP “Shallow Grave” from about a year ago, he certainly had a different rather unfolky presence. He looked into the crowd stone-faced, almost casually between lyrics. Then delivered a growling vocal that held the audience at DC’s Black Cat in rapt attention. While the almost banjo-like guitar picking made the immediate impact on record, the rough emotive vocal takes the cake live.
Reviewers compare Matsson to Dylan, but his guitar style and vocal demonstrate a less detached approach. Each rhythmic guitar lick and chopping on the guitar recall hints of Nick Drake (with open tunings) and at times like Iron & Wine. But neither can match the rougher dylan folky vocal. Matsson sings with fearless baritone runs into falsetto seamlessly.
With each spin, layers of meaning trickle out of the speakers. Both literate and beautifully pastoral, Matsson’s lyrics throw down the gauntlet to any current songwriter (regardless of language). The words have a depth and power that demands attention:
“When you mend the patches of my clothin’ /Â You know every thread goes through my heart / Guessin’ that the river’s gonna dry up /Â Well, I said that’s not the reason why we part. /Â Lookin’ ’round the corner where I left you /Â Wonderin’ whatever led me there /Â Knowin’ that a quiet, unconscious feeling / Could be bought to drown a memory anywhere.”
Surprisingly for someone so lyrically adept, Matsson rarely spoke during the show. Instead, he stared directly into the audience (almost like a statue). Dressed as an early Dylan, his thin mustache the only sign that he was not a gap model. While his songs sound a bit repetitive, his guitarwork, lyrics and growl demonstrate extreme sonic texture with one instrument and one voice. After all, no one got up on stage with him at all.
Each note played or sung seemed deliberate and exact. Though that may sound stale, it came off as just the absolute control of Matsson, bending each song to his will. He played quite a few tunes from the album with guitar instead of banjo, slowed them down subtly or changed vocal runs; nonetheless, the control and mastery was evident in each distinct singing performance, each guitar break. Like the record, a Tallest Man show left the audience wanting more.
About the author: Jeff is a teacher in the Boston area. When not buried correcting papers, Jeff can be found plucking various stringed instruments and listening to all types of americana music.