Cameron Winter proves his prowess on ‘Live at Carnegie Hall’

Cameron Winter, “Live at Carnegie Hall” | Partisan Records

There’s a striking irony to the scale of Cameron Winter’s “Live at Carnegie Hall.”

To a major degree, it feels monumental. Here’s Winter at 23 years old with just one solo album under his belt selling out one of the most historic venues in New York City. In doing so, the Geese-frontman invites inevitable parallels between himself and Bob Dylan, who also took the stage at Carnegie Hall in his early 20s – at a very similar point in his career.

As if following in the footsteps of Dylan wasn’t enough to make this live recording feel legendary, Winter enlisted the help of two of the most renowned working auteurs in cinema, Paul Thomas Anderson and Benny Safdie, to film the occasion for a concert movie releasing in December of this year. It’s quite the epic premise for a live album.

But Winter somewhat compromises this grandiosity the moment he begins to sing. Whereas Dylan inaugurated his groundbreaking 1963 Carnegie Hall show with the debut of “The Times They Are A-Changin,’” a vast, generation-defining call-to-action, Winter begins by murmuring a tender ballad of grief atop an unassuming piano trot with “It All Fell in the River.”

This sets the tone for the rest of the show. In the next song, “Try As I May,” Winter continues looking inward. He laments the futility of his pursuit of emotional intimacy, likening himself to a bird flying headfirst into a clean window and a sailor who drowns 30 feet from shore.

As important as the performance feels contextually, Winter’s lyrics, across all 12 of the pieces he performs, evoke an unshakable sense of insignificance. This contrast makes for a uniquely captivating experience as Winter insists upon his smallness, but every echo of his voice reminds of the moment’s profundity.

A similar paradox is present in Winter’s constant lyrical expression of artistic futility. He’ll put it so poetically and vulnerably that you’d almost agree with his self-deprecations – if it weren’t for the beauty of the way he put it.

On “Nina + Field of Cops,” Winter addresses one of his musical idols (and Carnegie Hall alumnus), Nina Simone, singing in his signature, ringy belt, “Nina I’m not nothing, but when you lie on the piano I am reminded I am stupid.”

This is one of the less cryptic lyrics on this nearly seven-minute-long piece that includes bizarrely pictorial lines such as “But names are donuts on the sea/Names are peanuts in the trees” and “I safari across the neighbor’s yard/Pushing groceries past pyramids of teeth.”

Every line in the song is accompanied by relentless tremolos reminiscent of the start of “Prelude/Angry Young Man” by Billy Joel. The result is something that sounds in between a hymn and a panic attack.

Winter’s piano playing is consistently impressive across the whole album. He’s certainly a technically skilled performer, but more importantly, he knows when to hold back and when to show what he can do. And when he does, it’s in this casually brilliant way – like a bored kid playing with his food who ends up turning his dinner into a renaissance sculpture.

On “The Rolling Stones” a stunning instrumental section ends with Winter arpeggiating up the entire keyboard and frenetically hammering a single note in the highest octave for almost 30 seconds straight. Two separate rounds of applause and cheers occur before he emphatically begins the next verse, his Steinway & Sons sounding with the power of a symphony.

The performance reaches its climax on the song “$0” in which Winter’s voice and piano are both at their absolute best. He sings these long, meandering phrases from the most vulnerable point in his vocal register while coaxing soft, sinuous melodies from his piano.

The song’s most memorable moment is its jarring coda with Winter’s prophetic, adamant howling of “God is real” – a non sequitur catharsis that only Cameron Winter would think of and only Cameron Winter could pull off.

By the tapering of the final fervent round of applause, Winter’s performances culminate into one of the most unique and ephemeral live albums of all time. Winter follows in Dylan’s footsteps and manages to prove himself deserving of the path he’s on. While not as overtly culturally commentative as Dylan’s performance, the beauty of these songs speaks for itself.

As creativity is increasingly regarded by many as disposable and replicable, Cameron Winter’s “Live at Carnegie Hall” is an inspiring reminder of the heights of pure human expression.

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