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Amber Bain’s sophomore album, “In The End It Always Does,” is a master class in emotional introspection. Released in May, the album delves into the theme of cyclicality, exploring it in the realms of relationships, gender, sexuality, and life — even capturing it visually with its minimalist cover art. Operating under the moniker “The Japanese House,” Bain skillfully establishes a dichotomy within her discography in which she inhabits the roles of both lover and the loved, the heartbreaker and the heartbroken, the known and the unknowable. It’s this tension that imbues her performances with a dynamic and resonant quality, and that drove a teeming crowd to her final North American show on Dec. 10 at the Roadrunner.
The distinctive allure of Bain's musical sound, characterized by richly engineered synths and meticulously layered instrumentation, stands as a testament to the delicate equilibrium between production and acoustic elements. This canorous charm, palpable on its own, undergoes a transformative rebirth in Bain's live delivery, where meticulously crafted studio gems pulsate with newfound energy. The resounding impact of kicks and bass in songs like “Sad to Breathe” and “Boyhood” elevated the audience, creating a pulsating energy that reverberated through the venue. Seamless integration of recorded background vocals from industry luminaries like Justin Vernon of Bon Iver in “Dionne” and Matty Healy of The 1975 in “Sunshine Baby” further augmented the live experience, showcasing a synthesis of studio precision and onstage dynamism.
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Yet, beyond the technical prowess and the carefully curated setlist, it was Bain’s vocal mastery that stole the spotlight. Layered and wistful, her vocals have an enigmatic quality to them that, despite the stinging vulnerability of her music, makes her both delectably unknowable and intimately relatable.
The set dressing mirrored the minimalist aesthetic of the album cover, channeling visual allure through the artful manipulation of stage lighting. From the stark glow of white strobes accentuating percussive elements to the overtly symbolic rainbow rows, the lighting choreography emerged as a captivating source of visual intrigue.
Bain took some air out of her set with her interjections few and far between, yet her humor and humility still shined through. Ahead of performing “Boyhood,” the first single from “In The End, It Always Does,” she injected a moment of levity by playfully dedicating the song to “all of my gays.” “I imagine there are quite a few of you in the audience,” she quipped, earning laughter from the crowd.
Similarly, preceding a haunting rendition of “Chewing Cotton Wool,” Bain continued to charm her audience with cheeky self-awareness, declaring, “Let’s do a sad one. It’s what we’re all here for.” This interaction, though infrequent, added a personal touch to the performance, creating an intimate atmosphere within the expansive venue.
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Despite a setlist that flip-flopped between upbeat and depressive, Bain’s command of the stage was unwavering. Together, Bain and her touring band worked like a well-oiled machine, flawlessly navigating through the emotional contours of her discography. Each song, whether it be the melancholic strains of “Over There” or the rhythmic pulsations of “Friends” and “Maybe You’re the Reason,” was delivered with a precision that showcased the honed expertise of a seasoned artist and her accompanying ensemble.
As the final notes reverberated through the venue, Bain concluded the night with a profusion of gratitude, labeling the performance as “probably the most special show of my life.” In those closing moments, her aptitude as both a performer and storyteller became unquestionable. The seamless blend of musical prowess, emotional depth, and the intimate connection forged with the audience underscored why she has sustained such a remarkable indie-pop career for so long.
–Staff writer Abigail A. Golden can be reached at abigail.golden@thecrimson.com.
