Written by Georgia Griffin / Photos by Julia Steinhouse
Charlotte Day Wilson has lent her voice to many fellow Toronto greats of the independent music scene, with collaborations from Mustafa, Daniel Caesar, to BADBADNOTGOOD. However, bound within the intimate walls and under gothic chandeliers of the El Rey Theatre, twenty-eight year old producer, vocalist and multi-talented instrumentalist, Charlotte Day Wilson, performs solo. Tonight, Wilson lends her R&B sound and the emotional terrain of her lyricsim to a crowd of transfixed worshippers.
Wilson’s opener serves as a perfect match for her Cyan Blue tour, another multi-instrumental talent by the name of Ouri. To many in the audience, Ouri is a mystery. A hum of whispers echo, “do you know her?” prior to the sharp yank of the red velveteen curtain at 8 PM, unveiling our first glimpse of Ouri. A rippling silence reflects the audience’s collective curiosity. Unfazed and perched stoically behind her keyboard with a gentle confidence, Ouri begins her set. She captivates us with her technical prowess and soft spoken vocals. A silence remains in the air, this time ushered in by the attentive trance of her ethereal voice and instrumentation.
Only performing a thirty minute set, Ouri does not disappoint. She blends stripped down versions of her releases, relying on self composed backing tracks, an organic flow of a synth soundscape, and accompaniments of the cello and harp. During the natural breaks of songs, one fan religiously chants “I love you Ouri”, to which Ouri bashfully smiles and returns with an “I love you, too.”
Timing and trust pervade her set as the cascading calm of her vocals bridges the body of instrumentation together. The audience and I feel grateful for our prompt arrival to the El Rey, especially as she hurriedly exits from the stage with her final song, whispering “Thank you for coming early”, and disappears behind the velveteen curtains.
Charlotte Day Wilson enters beneath a halo of an iridescent orange glow. She is accompanied by a singular guitarist, drummer and our very own Ouri, attending to the cello and harp throughout the show.
Wilson’s silhouette is formed by her Adidas jumper, thick soled loafers and a slicked back pony tighter than the grip she holds to her mic. Her stance remains steady for the first two songs. Finally, she breaks away during the final chorus of Canopy, singing “You’re the only one in your way”. The audience stares, mesmerized as the shadow of the El Rey lights dare to swallow Wilson whole and leave us with the blanket of her deeply expressive vocals.
These first steps of freedom from the microphone beckon the chase of our gaze, as she suavely seats herself behind the piano. Picking up at Canopy’s outro, Wilson delivers the gutting lines, “When the light comes through / Am I the same as you,” leaning back once again into the haunting glow of the El Rey.
As darkness engulfs each song’s conclusion, Wilson emits the soft utterances of “Thank you”, gently soaring above the roar of the crowd.
Glimpses of Wilson’s cheeky wit begin to break through. Timid and stoic at first, she slowly loosens up. And of course, a shot or two of liquor certainly does not hurt as a stagehand places one at the heels of Wilson, purchased by her friend, which emits a full-hearted giggle from our star.
Her playfulness comes into full force at the conclusion of Money, a song about an ex-lover who abandons the passions of life for security and wealth. Day Wilson turns to the crowd, sly smile on her lip for the words she knows she is about to emit are cunningly honest, “Sometimes it feels salty… and you just gotta let it out.” This is followed by the howling applause of agreeable fans.
Such interaction continues, and as Wilson seats herself again at the piano she argues, “They say LA crowds can be so stiff… I don’t feel that tonight,” to which an enthusiastic crowd goer meets her charm with the yell “We loose!”, causing our calm and collected Wilson to be disarmed, once again, and crumbles into a heap of laughter.
Memorable moments, such as these, were not rare. Wilson provided us with a saxophone solo as well as a surprise performance of In Your Eyes, a fan-favorite collaboration with BADBADNOTGOOD.
One thing remained evident as the concert carried on. Charlotte Day Wilson held her audience at a standstill. And as she graced the wooden panels and the beveled lip of the front tip of El Rey’s stage, an affectionate crowd leaned forward in worship at her low voice and suave arrangements.
Wilson concludes her official setlist with Cyan Blue. As the lines “I wish I could see through your eyes one more time” reverberated through the space, the weight of her songs laid bare onto us. It stands as a final goodbye to what we all came to witness, grieve, and celebrate at the El Rey under the guidance of Charlotte Day Wilson’s greatness.
As the lights dimmed for what we believed to be the last song, Wilson dutifully returns for an encore. Under a spotlight hovering above, she stands alone at the piano, announcing “I’m gonna try a song, not out yet”, one that will be on the upcoming record. Wilson, as if in dialogue with each and every one of us, confesses the song is for “Someone I love, here” and “this song is about her ”. As Wilson’s serenade echoes through El Rey, we are reminded of her raw charm, deep reflections on love and life, the collective experience in which the audience stood in silence, one last time, witnessing the raw talents only an evening with Charlotte Day Wilson could attain.
