Tallest Man On Earth @ Petit Campus

It's hard to imagine a more bewildering sensation for a relatively new musician than arriving in a country you've never even visited before and have people greet you like a big deal, especially when you're a young songwriter touring behind your second record of songs you recorded by yourself with sub-par equipment. That was precisely the case when Kristian Mattson, AKA The Tallest Man on Earth, came to Petit Campus to play for a sold-out crowd, in support of the stellar The Wild Hunt.

A few words on that subject first. Mattson's first record, Shallow Grave, was certainly no slouch, with some of its songs (particularly "I Won't Be Found," "The Gardner" and the hypnotic "Where Will My Bluebirds Fly") resonating long after your first listen. Mattson possesses a powerful wail not unlike a younger Dylan with a sense of pitch, and it's immediately striking. But Grave, as it turned out, was just a practice run for The Wild Hunt, on which Mattson proves himself to be superior to practically all of his contemporaries. With no band, and an almost unwavering one-man one-guitar setup (he switched to piano for the grand Springsteenian howl "Kids on the Run"), he has proven his credentials as a songwriter of rare wit and emotional investment.

Mattson was also blessed on this particular evening with a striking support act from his labelmates, Portland, OR trio Nurses, whose 25-minute set reminded me very much of Yeasayer's pre-blowup live arrangement. Their debut full-length, Apple's Acre, isn't out till August, but I'm already hoping their current sound has been successfully captured, since Yeasayer's recordings have been mostly disappointing. The comparison mostly arises from both acts' combinations of earthy and synthetic elements, particularly in blending live and sampled drum sounds. They also share an upbeat sensibility reminiscent of rock bands of a different era. It should be said, though, that Nurses' brief time onstage featured an impressive amount of instrument-swapping and changeups, indicating their willingness to toy around with what could have been a straightforward psych-pop set. Very intrigued to see what happens to these fellows.

Back to Mattson. Thanks to the brevity of the opening set and the ease with which one can set up a stage for a single performer, His set started early, which one can surmise probably suited Mattson, who appeared thoroughly blinkered, though grateful to be facing a packed audience. In person, Mattson is endearingly twitchy and awkward, never standing quite still, constantly altering his orientation to suit each song's melodic turns as it suits him. Opening with The Wild Hunt's beguiling title track, Mattson never hit a false note or a missed lyric despite the often intricate fingerpicking patterns required to pull off the eleven tunes that made up his main set, nearly all of which was culled from his latest release. A word of warning: being as they are principally songs of love sung by a Scandinavian fellow, Mattson's work tends to bring out the amorous factions of the audience; in other words, if you find PDA offputting, plan to stick close to the bar for the duration of his set.

And that was it - one man, one guitar, no surprises beyond the insane turnout (possibly inspired by Pitchfork's rave review of his record several days previous.) While some fireworks might have been nice, it was satisfying to be able to put a human face and presence behind some of the best songs to have come down the pike over the last few years. Sometimes it's nice to know what you're in for.