Cat Power at The Observatory North Park: A Sincere Revisit to The Greatest
Chan Marshall, Cat Power, transformed The Observatory North Park into a sanctuary last Monday. She arrived to celebrate the 20th anniversary of her milestone 2006 album, The Greatest, an anniversary further marked by the recent release of Redux—a three-song EP and 10” vinyl via Domino Recording Company.
The room remained dark and focused throughout the night. Marshall opted for no opening act; none was necessary for an audience this fully committed. From the very beginning, she gave herself entirely to the crowd. Her sincerity defined the evening. When she felt her first pass at a song didn’t meet her own high standards, she stopped and played it again from the top. This level of honesty is rare, and it proved how much she loves an audience that was equally eager and loving in return.
The performance validated Tom Breihan’s recent Stereogum reflection: “The Greatest is one of those magic albums… It’s the kind of record that ripples softly down through history. It exists out of time, moving backwards and forwards at once.” On stage, those ripples felt like waves.
Her band for this tour—Judah Bauer (guitar), Gregg Foreman (keyboards), Erik Paparozzi (bass), and Jim White (drums)—was impeccable. Together, they navigated the smoky, soulful grit of the original Memphis sessions with sharp precision. They provided the perfect foundation for Marshall’s vocals, which moved with a heartbreaking grace that has only deepened over two decades.
The evening transitioned into a sprawling second set, serving as an encore that showcased Marshall’s prowess as a masterful interpreter. She delved into a series of covers, including a soulful rendition of James Brown’s “Try Me,” followed by the classic country defiance of J.D. Miller’s “It Wasn’t God Who Made Honky Tonk Angels.” Closing with the timeless “I’ll Be Seeing You,” she reminded us that her voice is a bridge between the past and the present.
The final moments of the performance solidified the deep rapport between the stage and the floor. As fans offered hand-delivered gifts and Chan gleefully accepted them, the scene served as a physical attestation to the record’s lasting weight. Rather than a curated selection of hits, Marshall presented the album in its entirety—a sequence that demanded a vulnerability entirely unforced. By the final note, it was clear The Greatest still belongs to that rare lineage of timeless soul, standing firmly alongside the ghost of Dusty in Memphis.
Review by Narda Crossley
Images courtesy of Big Hassle Media