By snoadmin
Homegrown superstar Matt Costa wisped through Costa Mesa Thursday night for a sold-out show at the Orange County Performing Artscenter. This born-and-bred Huntington Beach songbird carried the evening with a lot of charm and celebration, dedicating even a few of his folk-tinged ditties to “humans, gophers and moles.”
Costa’s cute attitude lured a lock-eyed set of teens, mostly girls, of course, swarming the indie rock venue at OCPAC, the Samueli Theater. Dressed to the nines, flashy in their best Newport Beach jewelry and knee-high gladiator sandals, young fans fixated in the front row hoped for special attention from their favorite crooner. If any place would help the cause, this would be it – an intimate setting of a 500-capacity venue.
Costa, exhibiting the quintessential modern-day rocker wardrobe, looked careless yet collected in a vintage tee adorned with a roaring wolf image and washed-out faded jeans. His boots were an off-center pair of metallic mystery and his hair was swept into a ponytail with frizzes embellishing the edges.
This was the right Costa – the inexhaustible songwriter, the inexhaustible musician, and the flourishing symbol of music made under the Pacific sun.
And Costa has probably seen it all.
Since Costa’s emergence onto the indie music scene in early 2006, with his debut record “Songs We Sing,” the rocker has crisscrossed the continent, playing every North American festival imaginable: Coachella, Lollapalooza, Sasquatch and so on. He’s attracted big-time musicians on collaborations, like guitarist Tom Dumont of No Doubt, and even scored an openers slot for the sunny, easy-spirited Jack Johnson. Johnson later signed Costa on to his record label, Brushfire Records, setting off Costa’s success with a sophomore record “Unfamiliar Faces,” which was released in January.
Costa is probably most familiar to Long Beach music fans for his low-key January performance at Fingerprints, where he welcomed the release of “Unfamiliar Faces.”
But Thursday night, Costa had at least a few familiar faces in the audience. He reciprocated the warmth by announcing his love for the OC area and how good it felt to be back home after a long, windy tour.
Fresh-faced and fully committed to playing a good show, Costa emerged on to the stage at around 10 p.m.
His lengthy set of gentle, hummable songs started off with an acoustic number, which strummed right into a fast-paced, exciting “Yellow Taxi.” Costa sang some lyrics that colored the image of his fragile soul: “Can, can you spare some conversation? I need a yellow taxi cab today, I need your taxi cab to take me away.”
Costa stomped right into “Ballad of Miss Kate,” another song that held his sensitive requests in clear view, only this time he pronounced a more serious scenario – “You hit me right below the shoulder / I fell to the floor, I’m on my back, on my back. You shot me with your gun / Then you run, run, run, run.”
Costa fueled the electricity in his guitar for a few more songs that helped define his fine storytelling high.
The set list swayed from playful and poetic, to piercing but pleasing. He performed ballads like “Cigarette Eyes,” and angelic numbers like “Sunshine.”
Costa then switched gears and hopped onto the piano for the audience-favorite, “Mr. Pitiful.”
He first shared a story about a friend whose plumbing drained the water from his house, leaving only a few drops for his kitty, Hocus Pocus. The audience roared, acknowledging this friend as “Mr. Pitiful.” The musician then went on to demonstrate a more uninhibited, authoritative demeanor, carrying sharp vocals to match his sharp piano playing for this catchy song filled with rhyme and splash. He flared up with a sweet harmonica solo and set the mood for more danceable tunes.
After dealing with a spirited female duo who snuck up on the stage with dance aerobics, Costa set off with more hits: the guitar-tickling “Astair,” the fringed “Sweet Rose,” “Miss Magnolia,” “Never Looking Back,” and “Lullaby.”
About 90 minutes of Costa’s sunny music left everyone dizzy like the comedown from a great orgasm.
