If there is one thing indie rock band The Crane Wives are known for, it’s their adoring fans. On May 1, The Crane Children lived up to the hype, flocking to House of Blues San Diego to hear music from across the band’s five albums.
The Crane Wives’ whimsical, magical realism-inspired discography befitted the venue, its interior walls painted with spirals, stars, and cryptic, patterned imagery. In the sea of flower crowns and fantasy-inspired fits, The Crane Wives’ cult following was immediately apparent. As merely a casual listener, I felt like I had infiltrated their lair.
The lights dimmed, and we were transported into an eerie swampland bathed in blue light and buzzing cicadas. A person wearing a deer mask emerged from backstage and wordlessly placed four lanterns on the ground, then left as quickly as they had appeared. When the band members stepped out to stand in the circles of flickering light, a massive screen above their heads lit up to read “THE CRANE WIVES,” set against the backdrop of lakes, stones, and estuary reeds. The first note of their opening song, “Strangler Fig,” was met with a delighted scream from the crowd, followed by a chant of each lyric, beginning to end.
During an instrumental interlude, guitarists and lead vocalists Emilee Petersmark and Kate Pillsbury ran to face each other at center stage, furiously picking and strumming in a tense duet. And so a bluesy, playful, on-and-off guitar duel — a quintessential part of The Crane Wives experience — began. Their frequent guitar battles grew in intensity with each song, overlaying a hard rock sound upon rich, crooning folk ballads. Chanted melodies like the visceral, foot-stomping “Black Hole Fantasy” transformed the stage into nothing short of a sparring ground, backdropped by ever-present anthemic drumlines from Dan Rickabus and bass lines from Ben Zito.
Even as those around me sang out every note to Petersmark’s and Pillsbury’s guitar solos, I didn’t feel as isolated as I thought I would. This was not a moshing concert; it was a standing-and-admiring concert, and anyone ready to fully immerse themselves in the band’s instrumentation and lilting vocals was welcomed with open arms. Some gazed up from the pit while others clung to the balcony bar above, ready to hit it to the beat of the band’s most rock-heavy songs.
Petersmark and Pillsbury created a charming dichotomy from opposite sides of the stage. Kicking and dancing through each song, Petersmark was a live wire in contrast to Pillsbury’s more grounded presence. Pillsbury’s signature belt soared in “Queen of Nothing” as she sang straight to the audience members house right, who enthusiastically waved or threw up hearts with their hands.
In response to the singers’ infectious energy, fans fitted a chanting rhythm on everything from top hits to unreleased songs. During swelling rock anthems like “The Hand That Feeds,” the audience sing-along turned into impassioned, rhythmic screams.
The crescendo continued until the lights-flashing, cymbals-crashing rock anthem “Sleeping Giants,” when blue and red lights strobed down upon our dueling soloists. The audience begged the empty, lamplit stage for an encore until the lights finally dimmed again. In a brief moment of anticipatory, thrumming darkness, the venue held its breath before the four members stepped back onstage.
Petersmark and Pillsbury’s showdown culminated in the two jumping in synchrony to “Tongues & Teeth,” hair whipping and guitar strings strumming. My fellow battle spectators and I shrieked and cheered until our two warriors fell to their knees center stage, each one playing the other’s guitar in a moment of joyful chaos until Petersmark collapsed limply on the stage floor, defeated. Pillsbury stood victorious, smiling at the roaring audience.
I walked into House of Blues not knowing what to expect, but I left the weird, fantastical world of The Crane Wives having laughed, cried, and screamed until my throat was sore. For The Crane Wives’ devoted community, live music doesn’t seem to be about getting the closest to the stage or knowing the most lyrics — it’s about reveling in the sound, together.
If The Crane Wives return to San Diego anytime soon, you will find me in the crowd — with a flower crown to match.
