Yann Tiersen

It's a treat on offer at the Picture House tonight as Yann Tiersen, internationally renowned for his masterful film soundtracks for Amelie and Goodbye Lenin, serves up a spellbinding performance to a sell-out crowd.

Tiersen, who draws his influences from French folk music, fusing it with both rock and classical, could have easily won over the crowd with simple regurgitations of his exquisite soundtracks. Instead, he takes the more admirable path of filling most of his set with some unbelievably avant-garde tracks from his new album Dust Road.

Kitted out in a grungy grey t-shirt to match his doleful demeanour, Tiersen immediately rises to the demanding task of getting a Scottish crowd to cheer for a Frenchman. His first three pieces, ‘Countdown’, ‘Dark Stuff’ and ‘Till The End’ involve Tiersen tirelessly alternating between his electric guitar, violin, keyboard, a set of decks and even a toy piano. His vocals, although lacking a distinctive quality, compliment the mesmerism that his diverse instruments create. Tiersen is also backed by some impressive work from his bassist, drummer and second guitarist.

Despite the hypnotic effect that his juggling of instruments has on the audience, the biggest cheer of the night comes from his solo rendition of ‘Wire’, involving Tiersen playing his violin with such angst and ferocity that many of his bow strings snap within seconds. He plays on demonically, with the strings flying around in the air and lashing his face as he fiddled.

Tiersen and his band are called back on for two encores, where he reminds everyone of his mastery in minimalist composition, using the scratching of his decks to recreate his most famous of piano compositions, ‘La valise d’Amelie’.

The performance is by no means perfect. Like any experimental performance it is fraught with trial and error; when he gets it right he has the audience in rapturous applause; when he gets it wrong, he has everyone glancing at each other in amused befuddlement. However the effect  is always pleasantly surprising, and I must take off my béret to Yann and say ‘bien joué!’