TOC Portland

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Taking a cue from youthful folk revivalists like Laura Marling, Mountain Man, and the Pierces, Watford, England's the Staves blend the wistful cadences of classic British folk with breezy, Laurel Canyon-era pop. They made their full-length debut with Dead & Born & Grown in 2012. Bon Iver's Justin Vernon produced the follow-up, 2015's lf I Was, and 2021's Good Woman saw them work with producer John Congleton on a set partly inspired by both loss and childbirth.

The year 2011 produced a pair of EPs, Live at Cecil Sharp House and Mexico, which brought them to the attention of the major labels. The siblings signed with Atlantic Records and, capitalizing on the buzz created by their well-received debuts, they spent the beginning of 2012 supporting acts the Civil Wars and Bon Iver in North America. Arriving later that year, their first full-length outing, Dead & Born & Grown, was produced by Glyn and Ethan Johns. 2014 saw the release of another EP, Blood I Bled. The title track was a preview of the album If I Was, which was produced by Justin Vernon and released in February 2015. It landed them in the Top 20 of the Billboard Americana/Folk and Heatseekers Albums charts, and resulted in a tour with Florence + the Machine and an appearance at Glastonbury. The EP Sleeping in a Car followed in 2016, and a year later, Nonesuch issued The Way Is Read, a collaboration with chamber group yMusic that featured both Staves originals and reworked Music compositions.

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The Old Church invites you to be part of a series that celebrates intentional healing through sound, and creative visuals, and presence of mind. Each concert in the series is carefully booked to coincide with either the Full or New Moon. 
This sound bath celebrates the Full Pink Moon on April 23rd, 2024.

Etix is the official ticketing source and partner of TOC Portland.

Scottish singer, songwriter, and producer Steve Mason rose to widespread critical acclaim in the late '90s as a member of indie darlings the Beta Band. With their creative songscrap approach and maverick attitude, the Beta Band earned a somewhat notorious reputation among fans and the U.K. press during the post-Brit-pop era, thanks to releases like 1998's The Three EP's and 2001's Hot Shots II. During the Beta Band's heyday and following their 2004 breakup, Mason also recorded as King Biscuit Time and later set out on a proper solo career with albums like 2013's highly rated Monkey Minds in the Devil's Time and 2019's About the Light. Mason's powerful fifth solo album, 2023's Brothers & Sisters, saw him addressing the contemporary political landscape.

Mason initially formed the Beta Band as a duo in the mid-'90s with fellow Fife native Gordon Anderson (Lone Pigeon), although Anderson's involvement proved to be short-lived. Following his departure, the group coalesced around Robin Jones on drums, John Maclean on keyboards, sampler, and turntables, and Richard Greentree on bass, with Mason serving as the group's unofficial leader from that point onward. The Beta Band earned heaps of critical praise with an opening salvo of three EPs, all released on Regal and leading up to the appearance of their acclaimed debut album, 1999's The Beta Band. (Their fame only grew after they were name-dropped in the film High Fidelity by John Cusack, whose character claimed -- and then proved -- that he could immediately sell five copies of their EP collection The Three E.P.'s simply by playing one track.) The follow-up, Hot Shots II, earned greater praise, although shortly after their third release, 2004's Heroes to Zeros, the group disbanded.

Mason had already debuted a solo project, King Biscuit Time, late in 1998, and during the 18 months that followed the Beta Band's breakup, he released a pair of King Biscuit singles -- including "C I AM 15," which reached number 67 on the British charts -- and a full-length album, 2006's Black Gold. One year later, he launched an electronica project called Black Affair, and a techno-influenced LP titled Pleasure Pressure Point appeared on V2 in 2008. Recording for the first time under his own name, Mason issued his proper solo debut, 2010's Boys Outside. Featuring production help from Richard X, the album appeared on the Domino-distributed Double Six label and blended some of the Beta Band's sonic aesthetic with a more refined and poignant songwriting style. A year later he and Dennis Bovell gave it the dub treatment on a release titled Ghosts Outside. 

In early 2013, Mason returned with a sprawling album that would define much of his solo work going forward. Over the course of its 20 tracks, the acclaimed Monkey Minds in the Devil's Time explored depression, politics, and human nature, bringing together many genres to create a mesmerizing experience. Turning his attention inward, Mason's next record focused purely on himself. Wringing out personal emotions and experiences, 2016's Meet the Humans brought aboard Craig Potter (Elbow) to produce. For his next project, Mason wanted some of the feel and spontaneity of concerts and used a live band throughout the recording process to make 2019's more organic About the Light.

Etix is the official ticketing source and partner of TOC Portland.

Norm, the eighth album from singer-songwriter Andy Shauf, is a shimmering arc with unsettling silences that complete its story, the pop and hiss of a needle on a turntable after the song ends, emptiness like a trap door into something tender and terrifying. The Saskatchewan-born performer has already made a name for himself with television appearances and enviable reviews for his prior work, including his 2016 outing The Party, which The Sunday Times praised for “killer lyrics in music of extraordinary beauty,” and the night-at-a-bar drama of 2020’s The Neon Skyline, which Pitchfork called “a wistful, funny, and heartbreaking world.”

With Norm, he’s upended his songwriting methods, creating a deeply haunting and unpredictable universe. It’s a classic Shauf premise to wonder whether we’re destined for disappointment and pain when people don’t love us the way we want them to. But he’s taking the question further this time. Many tracks on Norm start out delicate and forlorn, with the feel of classic torch songs. In the middle of a line, Shauf’s vocals shift unexpectedly to a higher, plaintive register. He sounds as if he’s sitting next to you, singing quietly in your ear, with the persuasive pining of Chet Baker, if Chet Baker sang in round Canadian vowels.

But listen closely, and deep in the music, a shift happens as the world goes sideways. The tempo slows, vertigo slips in, or a discordant note appears. An uneasy clarinet phrase devolves into a busy signal. A lyric veers from a bird’s-eye-view to intimate thoughts. The result is a recognizable Shauf production, but with a flowing landscape of suppressed grooves propelling the songs toward uncertain destinations. He’s driving us out to a wild and dangerous place. The story takes shape through little epiphanies, accumulating like debris from a series of implosions.

Norm’s cast of characters includes four voices in all. Three are narrators, inside whose perspective Shauf submerges us for one or more songs. The voice of a fourth character appears only via a memory of laughter and a single line, relayed by one of the narrators: “are we leaving the city?” Watching a David Lynch film one night, Shauf found inspiration for how to frame his concept. What appeared to be a nearly static camera shot of a key on a table continued uninterrupted for two minutes, then five minutes, then seven. It seemed impossible in its relentlessness, bordering on genius. Eventually, Shauf realized his browser had crashed and the movie had frozen. Enchanted by the sense of possibility and wonder that had made the film so vivid to him during that period of incomprehension, he wanted to create something similar. He deliberately left open spaces through which readers could enter to find the story and create meaning for themselves.

What would eventually become Norm started out in a very different place. Back in 2020, Shauf wasn’t planning to make a concept album or a clustered narrative. This time, the songs wouldn’t be the stage for a cast of characters he had bound together song after song in aching proximity, all of them making each other happy or miserable or both. Maybe, he thought, he would make a disco record. What he really wanted was to make a normal record. It would be a set of unrelated songs, like albums recorded by other artists. A normal record. He decided he would call it Norm.

Etix is the official ticketing source and partner of TOC Portland.

Norm, the eighth album from singer-songwriter Andy Shauf, is a shimmering arc with unsettling silences that complete its story, the pop and hiss of a needle on a turntable after the song ends, emptiness like a trap door into something tender and terrifying. The Saskatchewan-born performer has already made a name for himself with television appearances and enviable reviews for his prior work, including his 2016 outing The Party, which The Sunday Times praised for “killer lyrics in music of extraordinary beauty,” and the night-at-a-bar drama of 2020’s The Neon Skyline, which Pitchfork called “a wistful, funny, and heartbreaking world.”

With Norm, he’s upended his songwriting methods, creating a deeply haunting and unpredictable universe. It’s a classic Shauf premise to wonder whether we’re destined for disappointment and pain when people don’t love us the way we want them to. But he’s taking the question further this time. Many tracks on Norm start out delicate and forlorn, with the feel of classic torch songs. In the middle of a line, Shauf’s vocals shift unexpectedly to a higher, plaintive register. He sounds as if he’s sitting next to you, singing quietly in your ear, with the persuasive pining of Chet Baker, if Chet Baker sang in round Canadian vowels.

But listen closely, and deep in the music, a shift happens as the world goes sideways. The tempo slows, vertigo slips in, or a discordant note appears. An uneasy clarinet phrase devolves into a busy signal. A lyric veers from a bird’s-eye-view to intimate thoughts. The result is a recognizable Shauf production, but with a flowing landscape of suppressed grooves propelling the songs toward uncertain destinations. He’s driving us out to a wild and dangerous place. The story takes shape through little epiphanies, accumulating like debris from a series of implosions.

Norm’s cast of characters includes four voices in all. Three are narrators, inside whose perspective Shauf submerges us for one or more songs. The voice of a fourth character appears only via a memory of laughter and a single line, relayed by one of the narrators: “are we leaving the city?” Watching a David Lynch film one night, Shauf found inspiration for how to frame his concept. What appeared to be a nearly static camera shot of a key on a table continued uninterrupted for two minutes, then five minutes, then seven. It seemed impossible in its relentlessness, bordering on genius. Eventually, Shauf realized his browser had crashed and the movie had frozen. Enchanted by the sense of possibility and wonder that had made the film so vivid to him during that period of incomprehension, he wanted to create something similar. He deliberately left open spaces through which readers could enter to find the story and create meaning for themselves.

What would eventually become Norm started out in a very different place. Back in 2020, Shauf wasn’t planning to make a concept album or a clustered narrative. This time, the songs wouldn’t be the stage for a cast of characters he had bound together song after song in aching proximity, all of them making each other happy or miserable or both. Maybe, he thought, he would make a disco record. What he really wanted was to make a normal record. It would be a set of unrelated songs, like albums recorded by other artists. A normal record. He decided he would call it Norm.

Etix is the official ticketing source and partner of TOC Portland.

Norm, the eighth album from singer-songwriter Andy Shauf, is a shimmering arc with unsettling silences that complete its story, the pop and hiss of a needle on a turntable after the song ends, emptiness like a trap door into something tender and terrifying. The Saskatchewan-born performer has already made a name for himself with television appearances and enviable reviews for his prior work, including his 2016 outing The Party, which The Sunday Times praised for “killer lyrics in music of extraordinary beauty,” and the night-at-a-bar drama of 2020’s The Neon Skyline, which Pitchfork called “a wistful, funny, and heartbreaking world.”

With Norm, he’s upended his songwriting methods, creating a deeply haunting and unpredictable universe. It’s a classic Shauf premise to wonder whether we’re destined for disappointment and pain when people don’t love us the way we want them to. But he’s taking the question further this time. Many tracks on Norm start out delicate and forlorn, with the feel of classic torch songs. In the middle of a line, Shauf’s vocals shift unexpectedly to a higher, plaintive register. He sounds as if he’s sitting next to you, singing quietly in your ear, with the persuasive pining of Chet Baker, if Chet Baker sang in round Canadian vowels.

But listen closely, and deep in the music, a shift happens as the world goes sideways. The tempo slows, vertigo slips in, or a discordant note appears. An uneasy clarinet phrase devolves into a busy signal. A lyric veers from a bird’s-eye-view to intimate thoughts. The result is a recognizable Shauf production, but with a flowing landscape of suppressed grooves propelling the songs toward uncertain destinations. He’s driving us out to a wild and dangerous place. The story takes shape through little epiphanies, accumulating like debris from a series of implosions.

Norm’s cast of characters includes four voices in all. Three are narrators, inside whose perspective Shauf submerges us for one or more songs. The voice of a fourth character appears only via a memory of laughter and a single line, relayed by one of the narrators: “are we leaving the city?” Watching a David Lynch film one night, Shauf found inspiration for how to frame his concept. What appeared to be a nearly static camera shot of a key on a table continued uninterrupted for two minutes, then five minutes, then seven. It seemed impossible in its relentlessness, bordering on genius. Eventually, Shauf realized his browser had crashed and the movie had frozen. Enchanted by the sense of possibility and wonder that had made the film so vivid to him during that period of incomprehension, he wanted to create something similar. He deliberately left open spaces through which readers could enter to find the story and create meaning for themselves.

What would eventually become Norm started out in a very different place. Back in 2020, Shauf wasn’t planning to make a concept album or a clustered narrative. This time, the songs wouldn’t be the stage for a cast of characters he had bound together song after song in aching proximity, all of them making each other happy or miserable or both. Maybe, he thought, he would make a disco record. What he really wanted was to make a normal record. It would be a set of unrelated songs, like albums recorded by other artists. A normal record. He decided he would call it Norm.

Etix is the official ticketing source and partner of TOC Portland.