Merrill Garbus’ refusal to stay fixated on one musical idea for any extended period Saturday at a sold-out Thalia Hall appeared to parallel the impatience of modern culture. The New England native, who performs as Tune-Yards, remained busy operating a bevy of foot pedals, synthesizers and microphones that allowed her to manipulate songs at will. Yet for all the sonic detours, she often came back to a focal point: sharp messages that spared nobody who is privileged or content — much least herself.
During the past decade, Garbus has evolved from a cut-and-paste experimentalist prone to fits of silliness and seriousness into a cerebral artist unafraid of challenging uncomfortable issues. Her recent “I Can Feel You Creep into My Private Life” album raises questions of identity, appropriation and culpability in a manner more in line with a graduate-level sociology class than a pop record.
Assisted onstage by collaborator/bassist Nate Brenner and a live drummer, Garbus celebrated her birthday taking stock of her role in systematic injustice, racial disparity and environmental ruin. As she broadcasted phrases pregnant with scorn and self-accusation — “Sitting in the middle of the sixth extinction”; “I smell the blood in my voice”; “We let freedom ring, but whose freedom?” — Garbus and company juxtaposed them with dance-club grooves. The upbeat vibes both underscored the personal contradictions and made the heady subjects palatable to a weekend crowd bent on having fun.
A ukulele proved no match for the repeatedly tapped cowbell and streamlined funk responsible for the hip-shaking motions of “ABC 123.” “Coast to Coast” marched to processed sounds that evoked blurting saxophones and a background choir. Questions of consumerism and entitlement emerged in the “Water Fountain,” but a barrage of layered voices and hip-hop beats transformed the protest into a party.
Throughout the 70-minute set, Garbus altered the texture and tempo of her hybrid collages with her voice. On “Powa,” she veered from delicate balladeer to tongue-out banshee wailer faster than the time it takes a luxury sports car to go from zero to 60. The former puppeteer also used syllabic and nursery-rhyme deliveries as rhythmic devices, complementing and contrasting the band’s mix of live and electronic drum-pad percussion.
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For all her strengths, Garbus missed opportunities to more deeply engage the audience. While she plans to post footnotes related to the songs’ topics on the group’s website, Garbus could have projected information on a backdrop screen rather than let the latter serve no purpose at the show. She also occupied a platform placed toward the rear of the stage and, because of her need to be near the instruments and technology, rarely left the spot. Such inflexibility and distance seemed incongruous to music that called for confrontation.