Don’t let Chantal Claret’s tiny, Pollyanna voice fool you. On the phone, she comes off sounding like she does at the beginning of her band Morningwood’s “Jetsetter”-part innocent, part jaded adult-film star.
But as she does in that number, the New York songstress soon lets go – her voice lowering and her physicality settling into a shoulders-back kind of groove – and takes on the role of the confident, commanding artist.
Claret is all about the warm-up. In performance, the 23-year-old similarly takes a song or two to really get into the show. She’s good for those songs, but then she’s great – and even later, when she gets that wild, two-songs-left look in her eyes, she’s epic.
“I personally think that I’m really introverted at times, but pretty much everybody will disagree with me,” Claret said from the road recently. “I got it from my mom. She was lightning in a (expletive) bottle. She could get anybody from the homeless person on the street to the queen of England to be involved. She treated them all the same.”
Claret, who brings Morningwood to the Bluebird on Wednesday, starts out with luring, baited looks that are little more than empty promises until she pounces on the guy in the front row and sticks her tongue down his throat. And then it’s on – making out sixth-grade- style. Messy lipstick, disheveled hair.
And when she’s done with him, it’s like the truck-stop bumper sticker, “So many men, so little time.” She leers around with an even more rabid look in her eyes until they lock onto her next victim, which may be her sweaty bass player or the unimpressed punk rocker with his back against the wall.
“I’ve been a performer since I was a little, little kid,” she said. “Everybody likes attention, and I definitely love my attention.”
And she’s getting her attention. Besides landing an unexpectedly quick deal with a major label – “We weren’t even ready to make a demo yet,” she said – Claret is feeling the love. Sure, the guys are kissing back, but that’s expected. While crowds fall for her undeniable charm and ridiculous punk-rock antics, critics are coming around to the music of Morningwood, which should make Garbage feel old, stodgy and irrelevant.
It’s smart, computer-enhanced pop music with a punk attitude and more hooks than a meat locker. The band builds upon what Garbage is trying to be these last few years – angrier and grittier, turning up the guitars and toning down the still-present electronics – but actually pulls it off.
“We weren’t always straightforward rock,” Claret said. “We spent a long time figuring out what we were doing musically. There was the ethereal trip-hop with lots of samplers and lots of megaphones. But then we realized that, why would we not rock as loud as we possibly can?”
The question inspired the initial spark. While the sound is sonically more easy on the ears than it was initially, that unforgiving passion is still there.
Watching her perform provokes a dumbfounding curiosity at first. At South by Southwest 2004, she was electric, possessed and on a mission. She tore apart the club, and she tore into so many boys that some guys moved up in the crowd while others quite obviously moved back, intimidated. At the same festival a year later – after the band had been signed by Capitol Records for a record due in January – the band was somewhat toned down but still reckless.
Claret says she remembers every show she’s ever rocked – a skill honed by not depending on drugs or alcohol for her wild performances – so we’re trying to nail down something she did one of those years in the Lone Star State.
So, does she recall jumping into the pit and groping a guy during an Austin performance?
“You’re not helping me narrow it down here.”
Pop music critic Ricardo Baca can be reached at 303-820-1394 or rbaca@denverpost.com.
Morningwood
POP|Bluebird Theater; 8 p.m., Wednesday with Ra, Breaking Point, Program the Dead|$8, all-ages|ticketweb.com
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MOTLEY CRUE Who cares if Nikki Sixx was actually born Frank Ferrana – we’d rather not know that. What matters is Saturday at Red Rocks, when these ’80s icons will take on the natural amphitheatre with their manufactured sounds. But beware, Vince Neil’s plastic surgery is anything but pretty.
KID 606 This is easily the indie show of the week, with the punk/hardcore/techno-obsessed producer bringing his sounds to the Larimer Lounge on Monday. Need a reason to go? Check out “Kill Sound Before Sound Kills You.” And don’t forget to duck.
DWIGHT YOAKAM The alt-country favorite plays the Paramount on Wednesday, and it will surely be a show focusing on his excellent new disc, “Blame the Vain.”
– Ricardo Baca
