The particulars of Jay Farrar’s cryptic lyrics are often unfathomable, but his overall theme is clear. Farrar sings about erosion, of lives worn down and negated by time, and the music of his band Son Volt is, appropriately, steady, determined and resonant with songs past.
At the outset of Son Volt’s 90-minute set Wednesday night at the Vic Theatre, songs like “Live Free” and “Cemetery Savior” proceeded at a mid-tempo stomp, driven by slamming power chords and a walloping rhythm section, then halted abruptly. Farrar would murmur in the lull, only to be swept up as the music lurched forward again. The songs’ progressions suggested the rush of circumstance broken by fleeting moments of reflection and understanding.
When the band shifted to the extended acoustic segment that made up the show’s midsection, the tempos gradually slowed from the brisk, sunny “Tear Stained Eye” to the trudging “Ten Second News.”
Farrar drew out his old-time country melodies in an unhurried drawl amid the flashing interplay of Eric Heywood’s steel guitar and Dave Boquist’s lead guitar, violin and banjo.
Even in the slowest moments, drummer Mike Heidorn and bassist Jim Boquist gave the songs an implacable rhythmic undertow, particularly as Boquist’s brother played searing slide guitar on “Left a Slide.”
“It’s a long, slow fade,” Farrar sang on that number, and his words repeatedly alluded to the inevitable: “We’re all proof nothing lasts.” “When we’re all passed over/the rhythm of the river will remain.” “There’s nothing more than the traveling hands of time.” There was no despair in his voice, only resolution, the realization that comes with taking the long view.
Just when it seemed Son Volt would succumb to entropy, the band came roaring back. The pace quickened, and Dave Boquist’s searing leads turned up the heat on “Picking Up the Signal” and “Caryatid Easy.”
Reaching into his own past for the finale, Farrar offered up “Chickamauga,” from the songbook of his beloved former band, Uncle Tupelo. As he and Dave Boquist tore away at their guitars, it was clear that Son Volt was not succumbing to time’s passage, but seizing their fleeting moment of it for all it was worth.
Bettie Serveert opened with a strong, frisky set. The Dutch quartet combined chiming, jangling guitars with a tumultuous rhythm section, particularly on an epic rendition of “Leg,” and Carol van Dijk’s scrappy, lilting vocals.
