The American Poet

Eugene audiences have every opportunity to see great live music, but rarely do we have the chance to catch an artist so creatively potent and critically relevant as Adrianne Lenker, who plays Dec. 5 at WOW Hall.

If that name isn’t immediately familiar, she might be better known for fronting the Americana-accented indie rock band Big Thief, considered by some to be the only band that matters, and deservedly so.

Lenker put out two quiet, and mostly acoustic-leaning, solo records early on in the pandemic: songs, a collection of boldly vulnerable interludes, and instrumentals, only two tracks long, clocking in at a bit more than a half an hour and, naturally enough, featuring wordless music. instrumentals is a companion piece to the first record, bringing the musician’s expressive and skilled exploration of the finger-picked acoustic guitar to the foreground. Always prolific, Lenker also has a 20-track double album on the way with Big Thief this February.

With her band and in her solo work, Lenker channels hillbilly, punk and ’60s insurgency, but like every great songwriter she stands both outside and within the genres she works in, capturing something that could only happen in the here and now. We’re just lucky to be there; her singing voice is an earthen reed, a seasonal stream and a vessel for rage and regret.

Reminiscent of Dylan’s “Mr. Tambourine Man,” a high point of songs is “zombie girl,” in which the narrator wakes up in the morning, “frozen in bed with a zombie girl/Vacant as a closed down fair,” regretting the desire that brought the pair together in the night before. Through the cold light of morning she sees these two lovers couldn’t be further apart, and that true connection is prevented by the transitory life of a musician.

Lenker sings, “Then the next night/Dreaming I could feel your skin/But the dream escaped so easily/And I woke up to the road again” — an overdue retelling of the “desire, ambition and loneliness” dilemma in ways that are typically reserved for men.

In one of Lenker’s older and best solo songs, “Angels,” off 2014’s B-sides and recorded with Buck Meek — her ex-husband with whom she also performs in Big Thief — she sings, “When I was only 12 years old, my parents went walking/I hate those wicked words they’d say when they started talking/He was headed for the open road, she turned and slammed the door/Learning love ain’t easy, child, when all you see is war” — she is an indie-folk American poet in a camper van, busking her way boldly through the mess of youth, eyeing the future.

Adrianne Lenker plays with Eugene’s Brian QTN 8 pm Sunday, Dec. 5, at WOW Hall; $20 advance, $23 door, all-ages.

A Note From the Publisher

Dear Readers,

The last two years have been some of the hardest in Eugene Weekly’s 43 years. There were moments when keeping the paper alive felt uncertain. And yet, here we are — still publishing, still investigating, still showing up every week.

That’s because of you!

Not just because of financial support (though that matters enormously), but because of the emails, notes, conversations, encouragement and ideas you shared along the way. You reminded us why this paper exists and who it’s for.

Listening to readers has always been at the heart of Eugene Weekly. This year, that meant launching our popular weekly Activist Alert column, after many of you told us there was no single, reliable place to find information about rallies, meetings and ways to get involved. You asked. We responded.

We’ve also continued to deepen the coverage that sets Eugene Weekly apart, including our in-depth reporting on local real estate development through Bricks & Mortar — digging into what’s being built, who’s behind it and how those decisions shape our community.

And, of course, we’ve continued to bring you the stories and features many of you depend on: investigations and local government reporting, arts and culture coverage, sudoku and crossword puzzles, Savage Love, and our extensive community events calendar. We feature award-winning stories by University of Oregon student reporters getting real world journalism experience. All free. In print and online.

None of this happens by accident. It happens because readers step up and say: this matters.

As we head into a new year, please consider supporting Eugene Weekly if you’re able. Every dollar helps keep us digging, questioning, celebrating — and yes, occasionally annoying exactly the right people. We consider that a public service.

Thank you for standing with us!