By: Zosia Blue
Duluthian Mary Bue took the Varsity floor Wednesday night, dressed in jeans and bare feet. Her tall brown boots leaned against the front of the stage as an impractical afterthought. The set-up was simple: tiny woman with a dark, pixie haircut, a Roland and a few pedals facing a room of cabaret tables. One mic, low lighting, candles on each table. The last time I saw Mary Bue was four years ago in the unromantically-lit University of Minnesota-Duluth student lounge, so it was a welcome change to see her in a soothing, subdued atmosphere worthy of her voice. And, holy shit what a voice.
She began with a deceptively simple song about tomatoes, and everyone in the modestly-sized audience immediately went stock still. I think there was a collective mouth gaping. Her voice was flawless, clear and kind with a full Mother Earth appeal. She immediately transformed in my mind to some goddess of singing that walks beaches and squishes lost souls to her bosom. Ursula the Octopus Witch would cut off six of her legs to steal that voice (see The Little Mermaid, circa 1988).
In between songs, Bue bantered about the 3-month artist residency in Florida from which she'd just returned. We all nodded empathetically when she said how difficult it was to force inspiration, and how she yearned for the perfect muse. She laughed with the audience and asked if anyone played pedal steel because she was looking for someone for her next album. She said she'd played three weddings in a month last summer and got tired of playing the wedding march, so she wrote her own wedding song. One of her best songs of the evening was "Jerk," a tune about a manipulative charmer who left her in ditches, emotionally and literally. The hook was an aggressive, pretty line that went, "I'm stuck in a ditch / twisted all up over you," which I just felt, you know? We'd all been there, and there was a beautiful universality in her lyrics and melodies that gave me the spine-tingles, even though I didn't know most of the songs.
Another favorite of the night was a song about Lake Superior called "Waltz," which, she giggled, was not technically a waltz at all. In a review for the Pulse Music Blog, music editor Steve McPherson mentioned he could imagine coming down a long staircase in the morning in a house by the beach and finding Mary playing an old tinkly piano. (I'm paraphrasing here.) I imagine this was the song he had in mind, as it evoked therapeutic images of waves lapping and hot sand. She ended the night with an old favorite, "Song for Holly," one of the only songs I knew all the words to, a situation in which even the calmest concertgoer suddenly claps her hands and goes, "Oooh!"
Her Mom was selling CDs at a front table, and when the show ended and she was leaning against the stage, zipping up her boots, I had the urge to run up, hug her and then immediately beg her to sing the soundtrack of my life. Mary Bue's an amazing, must-see talent, and, by far, one of the sweetest voices I've heard live in years. She's in Duluth now after her Florida residency and a long stay in Rhode Island, but she'll be back in the Twin Cities at the Acadia Café on April 17th.
Photo by Zosia Blue.
Location Info:
The Varsity Theater
Artist Info: Mary Bue
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