As a projector fills the backdrop with shots of rural landscapes throughout, Sarah begins her set with long-time opener ‘From Our Animal’. The violent, magical dexterity of her hand movements seems all the more striking when you look at the enlarged silhouette created by the projector’s light. Sarah appears as a marionette, controlled only by the music itself. I hedge a bet that all of this stagecraft is done deliberately and it works with dazzling effect.
By the end of her third song ‘Hero Brother’, Sarah has already incorporated her ethereal vocals and a mind-shattering foot-thumping technique into her set, proving again that the label ‘violinist’ is too reductive to describe this all-encompassing musician.
Bringing harmony to discordance in songs like ‘Dirt’, Sarah gives a varied set which brings in songs from each of her three albums. Her creations aren’t thin melodic strains of music but tough, intricately-patterned soundscapes that grab your attention in a way that seems at odds with how non-lyrical music is generally perceived - namely, as being background noise. With drum and bass pads on the floor and every extremity being utilised for some form or purpose, you feel as if the music is being shaped on stage, rather than played.
Playing thirteen songs in total, Sarah finishes the set with my personal favourite, ‘Muscle Til Death’. The opening notes are a strong nod to the late, great composer Arthur Russell (and, in particular, his song ‘This Is How We Walk On The Moon’), offering us a view of the musician’s influences. Closing her set in front of a breathless audience, Sarah Neufeld sets the story straight with anyone who is a fan of Arcade Fire but who dared overlook the talents of the band's individual members. She is truly a delight to witness.