Fans wore the top hats, bowlers, zippers, platform shoes, theatrical face makeup and leather just as they had in November 14 years ago, but this time many came with children under the age of 14. After all these years, many of that same audience waited in great anticipation for singer and keyboardist Amanda Fucking Palmer and drummer Brian Viglione.
The Dresden Dolls had always categorized themselves as Brechtian punk cabaret. Stepping out to The Doors’ translated cover of Bertolt Brecht’s “Alabama Song” from Kurt Weill’s 1927 play Little Mahagonny, it was clear that The Dresden Dolls still intended to get up to the old tricks well over a decade later.
The music started at 8:14 p.m. Blue lights flooded the stage as the band entered and Morrison sang the song’s final not — faces painted with blue eyeshadow and red lipstick, miming their introductions.
Palmer played a few disparate notes on the piano before the audience recognized it as the opening of “Good Day” from the band’s 2004 debut, The Dresden Dolls.
Viglione played the intro on the acoustic before pounding on the drums as the audience chimed in to sing “I’m on fire.”
And a fiery introduction it was, with the audience members moving in unison as the band built to an incendiary crescendo, their hands clapping above their heads as the band bled into “Sex Changes” from 2006’s Yes, Virginia.
The Dresden Dolls had certainly arrived with all the gusto promised in the announcement of this ever-so-small tour.
Palmer shed her coat leading into “Gravity,” revealing a sheer black blouse covering a black corset, writhing at Viglione’s drum break in which he actually broke a stick. Palmer smiled, vamping at the piano as her drummer recovered himself.
The band’s reintroduction to the audience was well calculated, burning through favorites like “My Alcoholic Friends” and teasing the audience with a playful introduction to “Missed Me,” as Palmer’s painted face enunciated every word and every feeling. Palmer broke down in laughter as Viglione placed a traffic cone at her feet in a clearly improvised pantomime. The audience laughed as well, giving some of the biggest cheers of the night.
It was at this point that Palmer let the audience know that they were here because the band is working on a new record and promised new songs after a few more old songs, on the condition that nobody film this part of the performance. They didn’t say anything about describing it, though.
She then told the audience that Dallas played a part in the deep track “Ultima Esperanza” from 2008’s No, Virginia.
“I was in college and made this crazy group of friends in Ginsburg, Bavaria, which is like the Texas of Germany, and there was this guy who is a friend of my boyfriend's who had just gotten engaged to be married to a woman from Dallas,” she said. “They had never met, they had met on the internet, which in 1996, was this brand new thing. I was skeptical and I wrote a song about it.”
Then followed “Backstabber” and “Mrs. O,” with an introductory warning: “Dear Texas, I hope you haven’t been reading the news.” Palmer did say that the solution was to get your news only from Facebook at the song’s conclusion, to the laughter of the crowd.
First, “Pirate Jenny,” a sea-shanty song telling the story of murder and piracy, performed as a cabaret storyteller from the Weimar Republic — a song Palmer would later say would have a home on the new album.The audience stood in silence as the tale unfolded, prompting the band to ask if they were OK.
Viglione then said that he would normally ask the audience to sing out, but alas, the band was about to play about 45 minutes of never-before-heard music after running through Palmer’s solo song “Astronaut: A Short History of Nearly Nothing.”
The promise of something new had come, and what followed was softer and sadder than what many who grew up with The Dresden Dolls would expect, but what all of us would understand.
It started softly with a lilt of soft cymbals called, at least we think, “Houdini.” The song built in strength, becoming bolder as a story of searching for understanding and love came to be.
The audience loved it. You’ll love it, too, if you love The Dresden Dolls’ softer songs.
Palmer then told the story of living in New Zealand through the pandemic and her divorce from author Neil Gaiman, saying that the songs she wrote were long and sad, laying the groundwork for “Whakanewha” (pronounced “fah-kin-A-fah,” (yes, even the locals know it sounds funny) a newer song recorded with Aurelia Torkington for Palmer’s solo album New Zealand Survival Songs released in January.
Palmer also took the time to speak highly of Viglione, saying “after all these years, I still underestimate this guy’s ability to make magical sounds … which is the secret of The Dresden Dolls.”
You could feel the love between Amanda Palmer and her longtime friend and bandmate Brian Viglione.
Clinton Creed Smith
Next came a slow-burning, bass-heavy, atmospheric ballad that culminated in a heavy, chaotic, distorted conclusion. Palmer asked at the song’s end if the audience “liked the sexy organ.” Yes, was the unanimous response. The song was called “The Nail.”
Amid technical difficulties, Palmer took a moment to state, again, her concern for Texas, but reassured us that she “was just as worried about Massachusetts as I am for Texas.”
The next song (which Palmer said was her favorite new one), written with Viglione in a barn just a couple of months ago, was about a lover in search of her beloved. “The Runner,” it seemed to be called, was a story-driven song about chasing love and never quite finding it.
It was thunderous, the kind of song that storms into the brain and rains on the heart. And the applause after such a long song was just as thunderous.
After another short conversation with Viglione about the next song, the drummer joined Palmer center stage on acoustic, first playing the opening bars from “Tequila,” then unapologetically playing another sad song, “Another Christmas.”
Historically, The Dresden Dolls have never recorded an acoustic guitar song or a Christmas song. Palmer said that the song was written as a kind of response to re-entering the U.S. after her time in New Zealand.
Though indeed long and sad, “Another Christmas” was not without its humor or humanity in its juxtapositions between happy holidays and sad times. Again the full Kessler crowd stood silent, taking in the self-reflective and deeply personal song — which will definitely be found on Christmas playlists, but really isn’t jolly. The jingle bells at the end were a nice touch, though.
The next song was dedicated specifically to Texas, “the jazziest pro-abortion song” as Palmer put it: “Mandy Goes to Med School,” if you’re curious, complete with improvised drum solos.
Palmer filled the break between songs to recount the scariest billboard she had ever seen “Today, in your state,” one of a smiling happy woman with the message, “if you’re pregnant, you do have a choice. Adoption.” She then implored the crowd to vote for a woman’s right to choose in the fall.
The moment for a laugh had arrived with the start of that ode to a woman’s self-love and self-stimulation, a wonderfully glitchy mechanical version of “Coin-Operated Boy” bleeding into a pristine, perfect performance of “Girl Anachronism” that had the audience screaming every single word.
The band took a bow at 10:29 p.m. after playing more than 2 hours without pause, but the audience wasn’t done. Neither were The Dresden Dolls, who returned just a couple of minutes later with much gratitude to play for a show they did their best not to advertise.
The Kessler earned the band’s praise as a wonderful venue and the audience was asked to return for tomorrow night’s show, which will offer new songs that were not played this evening.
The band played an encore, starting with “Sing,” beckoning everyone to give their voice in the crowd at The Kessler and in the voting booth.
“You motherfuckers, you sing something!”
It was beautiful. It would have made Bertolt Brecht proud. The Dresden Dolls play again Wednesday night at The Kessler.
