“Cornucopeiac” — Caroline Polachek’s Invented Words & Worlds

a [sort of] concert review

This might be a weird admission, but I always thought Caroline Polachek was super tall. This probably has something to do with the persona she cultivates in her music videos — poised, graceful, and elegantly intimidating. But when I saw her perform live last weekend, the opposite seemed true — The set for her tour is massive and imposing: a huge, makeshift mountain that looms over the popstar as her soaring voice sets sail. It’s an interesting choice for stage composition: Most pop musicians gravitate towards standing on tall platforms with a backdrop of dancers to boost and expand their presence. But on her Spiraling Tour, Caroline Polachek chooses to surrender herself to larger, outside forces: It’s as if she’s just one small cog in a vast, artistic spectacle.       

Music about desire is often music about agency. “I want this, so I’m going after it.” or “I would give up my agency to earn your desire.” But Caroline Polachek’s music seems to call to desire like some ancient, all-powerful spirit. We mortals can fall victim to its charms and to its curses, but we will never ever truly have it under our thumb. This too, feels reflected in the staging of her current tour: The desire is  captured by huge awe-inspiring, naturalistic elements: A massive full moon. Sand dunes and mountains and aurora borealis. Those of us who desire are small: Each member of the crowd, eclipsed by darkness, poised on tip toe to catch a brighter glimpse of the spectacle. The band, on a platform that still sets them far beneath a sky’s worth of projections. Caroline, running back and forth onstage to bask in man-made starlight.  

Themes of love and passion were already alive on Pang, a set of electropop odes to the rich bursts of joy that come with new love and fresh excitement. But on her latest record, the one she’s touring now, she delves even further into the drama of these experiences, casting her crushes in bold, sunburnt tones. Pang felt like it was zooming in on microscopic shifts, exploring the theater of the everyday. But Desire, I Want to Turn Into You  is about cowering, awestruck, at the sight of something undeniably huge.

There you were with your mirror / Shining the world all over me / There I was with my butterfly net / Trying to catch your light

The above quote hails from my favorite song on the new album, and one that shook me to my core in a live setting. It sounds almost religious, doesn’t it? It’s surely nothing new — devotion is romantic, and it’s also packed with divine connotations. As Caroline sang, she took her most static position of the night: tinkering with synths and letting the song’s adoring lyrics shine. By the track’s end, the stage was consumed with twinkling stars, classic symbols of fate, impossible vastness. Were they summoned by the music? Or perhaps we were all merely trapped inside a mirror ball, reflecting light onto some grander stage. 

Twisted, manic, cornucopeiac / Yeah, my cup overfloweth

The next track played, “Billions” is a song that’s unfurled for me, gradually, over time. When it first dropped, all the way back in February 2022, I played it on a rainy night drive home. It fit the moment like a glove, lyrics fading into atmospheric unimportance, as I fiddled with the volume dial and gave into the undeniable vibe. I accepted, for perhaps too long, that the lyrics were more there for mood than anything else — cryptic refrain, cool made-up lingo, and all. But as time went on (and there’s been lots of time in this album rollout), the poetry of the pop song started to feel decipherable. A bubbling ode to abundance, a love made up of multitudes. Multitudes of what, exactly? Listen and see!

In a live setting, songs like this one gained their missing pieces, finally coming into full clarity. Among a crowd of sweaty bodies, on a White-Claw-wet floor, abundance as an idea just makes sense — for better or for worse. We’re all part of something bigger, here. We’re all a little claustrophobic. We’re all worshipping ideas that we can’t quite grasp, cryptic signs and symbols projecting across a stage that threatens to eclipse its own glistening heroine. We’ll all wake up tomorrow a little sad, missing something about this concert that we can’t recreate between headphones at home.  It was the first night of the tour, so the set felt infinite. In a good way! For once I couldn’t spoil things for myself, left to dance in the glow of endless possibility. 

Of course, a setlist cannot actually be infinite, without eventually feeling overlong or downright painful. And there’s a true art to sensing where to draw that line, closing in on the perfect length.  So naturally, soon came the climax of the whole production: When we feel we’ve already exhausted our resources, have already heard over a dozen hit songs, have lost our voices and brought anguish to our feet…The stage’s central prop comes to life. The mountain is a volcano. And the volcano is active. 

It’s just smoke, floating over the volcano

Volcanoes are inherently big, violent, and scary. But in Caroline’s lyrics, there’s just the softest threat of something even larger. And the strangest comfort in knowing that whatever comes next can’t be stopped. I didn’t recognize “Smoke” as the album’s thesis until I heard it live, chills running down my spine as I watched the mammoth set piece come to life. Here’s what everything’s been building up to. The reason for the wars and the wanting and the worship: Tension. Desire. The smallest, smoking whisper of what might become a spark. 

And it’s powerful. Powerful enough to make people do crazy, desperate, beautiful things. Sending risky texts. Writing weird-ass pop songs. Dancing with friends when the crowd’s too tall to see over, waiting endlessly in merch lines, kissing through KN95 masks. It’s even powerful enough to make someone who is effortlessly cool, fiercely intelligent, and unbelievably talented seem small.

So… what’s the truth, on that front? I looked it up while writing this and had to laugh out loud: Caroline is my exact height. If we ever meet, I guess we’d be chatting face to face. 

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Thank you all for tuning in! I apologize for the lack of photos — It was one of those “tall guy stands right in front of me” concerts. It still kicked ass.

Until next time: Take solace in something bigger than you, even if it’s just the sky.

Clare