The entrance is coy, humble, and almost shy. There is a slight wave from a low-slung hand and then a smile breaks out. Then, suddenly, in the twinkle of those eyes there is mischief, there is intent… there is something to be said and you are going to listen. Ezra Furman is back, and it seems like an age since she was last here.

After easing into the night with a simmering Grand Mal, the set quickly starts to boil over with No Place and Trauma. Such powerful songs so early in the set, sending a clear message of the rage to come.

Many bands play loud and fast and declare their anger or angst in quite straightforward terms — often easily understood and possibly easily forgotten. Tonight, with Ezra Furman, the message is altogether more subtle, and the delivery and lasting effects are seismic. These songs are about a life lived — and at times directly endured — not just third-party, voyeuristic interactions. With a voice that almost defies genre, and with machine-gun-like intensity, Furman snarls as words crackle with emotion: raw and highly charged, frustrated, strained, and deadly potent. There is a savage release that relays stories of everyday love and heartbreak. Highs and lows. Car rides… car rides seem to be a thing. At times sardonic, at times naively optimistic, and yet crushingly realistic. The tales are relatable, and that draws you in.

Deeply personal and emotive, you are quickly brought on side. Quieter moments, including a two-song solo interlude, allow for tongue-in-cheek interactions and self-effacing humility. Furman comments on a declining fan base… which may, in some strange way, be intentional — a clear and determined move away from the Sex Education era, regardless of how successful that may have been financially.

The newer songs are polished, fuller, less abrasive, yet they sit perfectly — still jarring, with that perfect vocal delivery leading the charge. Some older favourites are stripped back and remind me of The Velvet Underground. And again, that voice, glued to rasping guitars, with that desperate intensity connecting them all. Sunglasses still reminds some of Dylan and Sunset of Springsteen — but that is okay. They all have something to say.

“Tell ’em all to go to hell.” A fitting end to a beautiful night. An artist at the top of their game, an artist continually changing. I am fascinated to see where Ezra Furman goes next. Such tumultuous times for an American, and that really is the perfect catalyst for artistic reaction. Ezra Furman is the perfect artist to lead the charge — involved, vocal, and savage.

As she said, “We are from the US and we are not okay.”

Words: Nick Tamer

Images: Chris Hogge