In terms of setup, this gig wasn’t exactly like the Four Tet headlining one back in March. I couldn’t help but notice the presence of microphones set at head height implying vocals were likely to be present in the set. The venue itself is also a much narrower affair compared to The Bongo Club and since my last visit to Sneaky Pete’s (or perhaps just for the Festival crowd massing in Edinburgh currently) the stage itself is more definable and higher. But still the crowd can get as near as ever, allowing them to get a full view of the decks the artists were using.

Amidst various pedals, keyboards and wires were three MacBooks: one for each member of Brothers Grimm. Together they stood bent over the tables in front of them, forming ferocious loops and dropping beats when it all fused together to give more momentum (and something to dance to). It recalled the style of Fuck Buttons and the comparison only went further when you put your attention to the video playing behind them. I always just assumed it was just an exaggerated internet fad that “hipsters” have but between the looping clips of Total Recall and Predator, the audience were greeted with a selection of twirling, spinning and generally frivolously moving triangles. Sure enough, you can let it pass when you see it now and again – Daft Punk’s live pyramid, the cover of Street Horrsing – but when a band who’s actually putting out some good tunes just fall straight into the cliché you can’t help but be a little saddened. I mean, at the very least, try another shape – what’s wrong with an octagon?

Nonetheless, the trio did have some good tunes to offer as said above. At the best of times it all came together in a mildly hypnotic manner and was great to sway about to in the low lights and fog. At the worst the music was merely odd or somewhat dissonant but that only seemed to occur when the loops were coming together or a crescendo had happened and the come-down was happening. And those microphones which seemed to catch my attention somewhat unnecessarily turned out to be far from the focal point, occasionally being used to add wordless harmonies that became lost in beds of reverb. In the end I couldn’t help but wonder why, with music as sturdy and enjoyable as it was, they fell so easily into the cliché. Geometry isn’t going to make the music any better.

Seeing Hendrick Weber (Pantha du Prince’s somewhat less regal real name) in action for a second time made me realise there’s an almost theatrical element to his live set. Once again dressed in numerous winter clothes, he looms over the crowd who are just a couple of feet below him. To begin with his set actually looks and sounds more like a science experiment. Placing an empty glass in front of him he gradually fills it up with water and ice while putting a sort of Theremin microphone-like metal stick into it creating a noise akin to icebergs breaking apart. Toned down and fed through various channels this noise appears to form the glimmering droplets that pepper Black Noise opening track “Lay In A Shimmer.” As much as a treat as it is to hear one of the album’s highlights straight away, it’s also greatly intriguing to see how Weber goes about creating the sounds he works with. Later on in the show he taps a wooden block of sorts with his Theremin stick creating the curious percussive elements of tracks like “Abglanz” and “The Splendour.”

But picking and choosing tracks from the set feels a little irrelevant as the majority of the music seems to seamlessly meld into one. The fact I’m not overly familiar with This Bliss didn’t seem to become an issue on the night for me. The seamless nature of the set made it like more like any really great set at a club: tantalizingly easy to dance to while keeping a hypnotic groove going throughout. Like myself the audience seemed to eat it right up, quickly creating pools of sweat under their armpits and on their foreheads from moving in and around other people below the stage. Watching from the steps to the stage I was able to get a good view of both Weber at work and how the audience reacted.

On the whole Weber didn’t seem to actually take notice of the congested mass in front of him even when he stopped for a moment to take off another later of clothing as the heat intensified. Instead he looked equally transfixed as any fan but instead from the creation process. Without a good knowledge of the equipment Weber uses it’s near impossible to tell what he’s actually doing. He turns a few knobs, presses a few buttons, taps his wooden block and it all comes together. I’m not belittling his process – I’m sure it’s intricate and complicated. If anything I’d be more inclined to compliment it for the fact he can make it a beguiling visual feast while not putting all the focus on the video behind him (of the Black Noise album cover being drawn and painted).

I must admit I didn’t find this set as captivating as his last one but that could be down to a number of factors. For one it could have been merely a time and place issue and secondly coming to this gig I was more familiar with the material on Black Noise and thus had raised expectations for the material from it. But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t pretty transfixed when the great moments from his 2010 album were thrown into the mix: the playful melodies that begin “Satellite Synper,” the resonating and almost cadence-like chime of “Es Schneit” and the irresistible single “Stick To My Side.” And he was clever is his execution of them, especially with the latter: the audience’s first glance of it was merely an instrumental before he brought it back in the encore with full vocals.

Oddly I seem to find Black Noise a frustrating listen on headphones so hearing material from it in this open space was a treat for me. Sceptics might question how songs with seemingly little to them could work in a live setting but explaining the aura the music seems to create becomes complicated and almost ineffable. A surprising mix of younger and older fans all began to remind me of my time in The Bongo Club back in March; dancing and caught by the music. In a likely attempt to heighten the intoxicating mood even more one guy even lit up and passed around a joint. I can’t say I cared much for his actions (what with being illegal on two separate levels here in Scotland) as considering they were right in front of Weber and his table of musical wizardry, they should have been getting the full effect of the dazzling display. Then again, I guess we don’t all have that night in March to look back to like I do. At least from now on they’ll likely be lucidly remembering that night in August.

Although Kurt Vile may be recognized by many as a multi-talented musician, (Kim Gordon even mentioned him in an interview for Women’s Wear Daily), in Ottawa, his biggest fan base is consisted of less than 50 attendees. Having played Babylon on July 21st, with band Real Estate, this show would not be one to be missed in most cities where good music was appreciated, but in Ottawa, Ontario, the turnout is kind of dismal.

The members of Real Estate were about 40 minutes late showing up as they were caught in traffic on their way into town. Eventually they took the stage, and the band did not disappoint. Playing music that is extremely Westcoast in comparison to their hometown of Jersey; the band is extremely talented in producing the unexpected. Their sound was extremely mellow, and when they were asked about who their influences were, most of the band listed Television, from New York City. Although this proves to be contradictory in my description of their music, it is quite easy to hear the inspiration in the twangy guitar and intense, yet laid back drumming. I also asked the band how it felt to be on tour with Kurt Vile and Etienne (the drummer) and Martin (the singer) exclaimed that they were excited as they were fans of his music.

Kurt Vile was the headliner of the night; as much as I enjoy his music, when played as a record, his type of music is sort of hard to translate into a live performance. As a musician who considers his music to be “space pop,” the set was kind of boring, and he seemed to be more into playing his music for himself than engaging the crowd. Talking to Kurt after his set, the only thing that can really be said about him is that he’s very into his music, and himself… but nothing else.

When asked about how it felt to be produced by John Agnello, (Sonic Youth, Dinosaur Jr.), he muttered something along the lines of “not knowing because he knew John before and just asked him to do it”. When asked why he was touring with Real Estate and if he picked the band himself he responded with, “I dunno. The label did it.” As talented as Kurt is, he’s obviously not much of a talker. I got more information out of his drummer, Mike, when talking about Kurt’s influences (The Dandy Warhols, Led Zepplin and especially My Bloody Valentine were some of the many bands Mike had mentioned). Regardless of social awkwardness, Kurt Vile is obviously multi-talented, having once been the lead guitarist of the band War on Drugs and now newly signed to Matador Records as he tours by himself, it is hard to give him credit where it is (musically) deserved. Kurt’s new album comes out this winter, and the first single will be released this fall, which is something to look forward to, for sure. Kim Gordon probably agrees.

In a satirical oration given before Pavement closed out the weekend in Union Park, Rian Murphy, co-founder of Chicago label Drag City, joked that the Pitchfork Music Festival has become the “minor league” to Lollapalooza. While Pitchfork hasn’t become Lollapalooza, there has clearly been a shift in that direction. A survey of the Pitchfork Music Festival circa 2010 will show that the audience has changed since the annual festival began in 2006. While still primarily composed of the hipsters that mark anything Pitchfork, the crowd is no longer quite so homogenous. The festival grounds now includes punk teens, overgrown hippies, frat boys, parents with their children, and pretty much everything short of a “Freebird” guy. In short, it looks a lot closer to the Lollapalooza crowd than many are comfortable to admit. In this way Pitchfork is at the crossroads. Festival organizers must decide whether to bend to outside pressure and mainstream the festival’s acts, or rigidly hold to their indie origins and book only niche artists. It’s a festival in flux, but despite this dichotomy the fest provides an array of artists capable of reaching the hardliners and casual fans without losing the eclecticism that Pitchfork is known for.

Like many, my biggest concerns going into the weekend were the sound problems of years past and how they were going to be dealt with. The issues have generally crept up at the two big stages on the North side of the grounds. For the most part, the sound issues have been rectified in 2010. The exception, and it’s no small exception, is the headlining slots. If you happen to be reasonably close and not off to the side of the stage, you’ll be hearing the show just fine. However if you’re just a little too far to the left or right of the stage, even if close to the front, you might as well be overhearing the sub-woofer of a passing car. It really can get that poor. Pitchfork, you’re pulling in a huge crowd. It’s time to invest in additional speakers for the headlining slots. It’s good for publicity and it’s good for your patrons. On a brighter note, kudos are in order for Pitchfork and the security they’ve employed. The grounds were kept safe and security was never heavy handed. Fest volunteers handed out water and ice all weekend to combat the excessive heat. There are a lot of inherent dangers associated with outdoor events in the Chicago July, but issues were kept to a minimum all weekend.

Robyn

While the festivities officially got underway with Sharon Van Etten, the first real attraction came a half hour later when the Tallest Man on Earth took the stage. While the late afternoon heat didn’t do him any favors, he managed to rally a few voices during “The Wild Hunt.” He endured admirably, especially considered he’s really better suited for a more intimate setting, or at least a place with air conditioning. Other of the earlier acts didn’t fare as well, with Liars never really getting off the ground. However, things picked up in a big way when Robyn took the stage in the early evening. I had mistakenly written her off long ago as throwaway pop. My apologies Robyn, you deserve better. She and her band played for nearly an hour of nonstop fantastic electropop, and the crowd was lapping it up for the duration. She was quickly followed by Broken Social Scene. They put in a workman’s performance with Lisa Lobsinger, a regular guest singer, providing the best moments with her gorgeous voice. Unfortunately, Friday night ended on a bit of a sour note with an uninterested and unintelligible Modest Mouse. The latter wasn’t their fault as the sound was terrible; easily the worse sound quality of the weekend. The band didn’t help their cause by looking like they too had spent the entire day standing in the sun. It’s a shame that a band with such a deep, rewarding catalog and devoted following can’t bring it for an hour and a half for one of their largest audiences.

Modest Mouse

Saturday proved to be a more enjoyable affair with pleasant surprises coming early in the form of Dâm-Funk (pronounced “Dame”). The Pasadena singer’s Funkadelic meets Kraftwerk sound was refreshingly unpretentious and a fun retreat from the earlier Titus Andronicus set. The same cannot be said for the Smith Westerns. The Chicago foursome has been hard pimped by Pitchfork for a year now, and while it’s nice to see a local act make the festival, Chicago has dozens of better and more interesting bands than this. Thankfully the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion was right around the corner to wash away the bad taste. The Explosion’s set was vivacious, sweaty and humorous.

Following on their heels was Canada’s Wolf Parade, who caught the attention of nearly the entire crowd positioned at both the A and C stages. There must be something in the water in Montreal, as Spencer Krug’s voice reminded me of fellow Montreal singer Ivan Doroshuk. Whether that’s actually admirable or just an enjoyable novelty I’m still not sure. At any rate, all indications point to Wolf Parade becoming a fest headliner in a few years. Sadly, good can often be countered by bad. In this case, the bad was Panda Bear. Panda Bear put on a debilitatingly atrocious set that sent much of the crowd at the C stage running for the concessions, bathrooms, and other stages. If circumstances were different and Panda Bear wasn’t a Pitchfork favorite playing a major time slot, he surely would have been booed out of Union Park. All this mattered not once LCD Soundsystem took the stage. For my money, LCD put on the most engrossing performance of the entire weekend. James Murphy, proving he’s really just an overgrown kid, showed excitement and vigor throughout what might be one of his last major festival appearances. The set ran long, to nobody’s surprise or concern, ending on a short rendition of “Empire Stage of Mind.”

Wolf Parade

Sunday was mostly uneventful until Lightning Bolt picked up their instruments in the late afternoon. Their guerrilla-assault noise distinguished themselves from everyone else, with drum destroyer Brian Chippendale gathering the most attention. This was followed by a short set by St. Vincent, who continues to demonstrate why she’s one of the best guitarists on the indie scene. This lead into one of the most bizarre and delightful revelations of the weekend, Major Lazer. Nothing could have prepared the crowd for sexually charged performance of DJ Diplo, Skerrit Bwoy, and the array of dancers and props. DJ sets are generally difficult to sell to large crowds, but most DJ sets don’t have Skerrit Bwoy. The music itself was utterly overshadowed by Skerrit Bwoy’s personality, as well as his acrobatic dives. How security allowed him to high jump off a 10 foot ladder into the crowd is shrouded in mystery, but the highly sexed set caught just about everyone by surprise. Big Boi put a decent, if unspectacular, hit-laden show that nicely transitioned the festival into the big finale with Pavement.

I had some trepidation about seeing Pavement live in 2010. They’ve been broken up for over a decade, and bands who reform after so much time apart often return as mere nostalgia acts. Skeptics of Pavement’s reunion will point out that over half of the band’s set came from their first two albums (which are, in effect, the “hits”). However, my concerns quickly dissipated as Pavement tore through their set with casual aggression.

Pavement


”Cut Your Hair,” their only song that could potentially qualify as a hit, was thrown to the wolves immediately. From there the band dipped into all parts of their catalog ranging from the fragile “Here” to the fluorescent and feral “Stereo.” By the end it was evident what made and continues to make Pavement such a special band; their refusal to treat the songs as museum pieces. The music is still alive and malleable and the band is invested in its performance. It’s a similarity they share with the festival itself. Pavement may very well be approaching their sell-by date. However, they’re still spirited and have something to contribute, and that’s as good of an allegory as there is for the Pitchfork Music Festival in 2010.

Pitchfork Music Festival 2010: Friday In Photos
Pitchfork Music Festival 2010: Saturday In Photos
Pitchfork Music Festival 2010: Sunday In Photos

The Forum was slow to fill up to capacity, as London’s recent sunny weather kept many of the music revelers outside during opener Here We Go Magic’s set. Their loss though, right? Here We Go Magic played a set heavy with songs from their latest album, Pigeons. The new songs translated well live, with the most enthusiastic response occurring for the PIgeons favorite “Casual.” The band closed out their set with revamped version of Self-Title favorites like “Only Pieces,” “Fangela,” and “Tunnelvision.” For a band that’s typically known for their quieter moments, Here We Go Magic put on an impressive, energetic performance for the audience.

Scheduled to go on at 9 p.m., Broken Social Scene arrived promptly on the stage at about 8:50, which is a bit refreshing for a live-music act, as audiences have more or less become used to main acts arriving later than their scheduled time. After opening with a rousing rendition of first single “World Sick”, the band seamlessly weaved in and out of old favorites like “7/4 Shoreline” and “Cause = Time” with newer fan favorites like “Texico Bitches” and “Forced to Love.” For the latter song, Drew required audience participation in the form of one lucky member holding the lyrics for the song (apparently even Drew can’t keep up with some of the harder lines of the song). Normally, this wouldn’t be noteworthy, but audience member “Angus” momentarily stole the show as he danced around stage, played a shaker, and jumped from the upper level of the stage, over an amp, and landed in time to dance around Brendan Canning a bit before finishing off the song with a hastily choreographed dance with Kevin Drew. Notably absent from Angus’ performance was the holding of lyrics.

The reason Broken Social Scene live shows work so well is that it’s obvious that the band cares deeply about the people consuming their performance. Drew regularly interacted with the crowd, with small banter between songs, or through performing slower songs like, “Sweetest Kill” and “Ungrateful Little Father” in the crowd. Before launching into the final song of the main set, Drew told the crowd that he understands what it’s like to be in the crowd, and that’s why they do it. He isn’t a passive observer of the live music experience, as he said, “I was right there in the crowd with the rest of you when Pavement played the Brixton Academy.” With that, he led the band in a frenzy-inducing version of “Meet Me in the Basement” featuring multiple false endings.

Had that been the final song of the night, nobody in the room would have been disappointed. But while the rest of the band left the stage, a lone light shone on the synths as Kevin Drew took his place for a minimal, yet moving, rendition of “Lover’s Spit.” When the band finally rejoined on stage, the show was closed with the crowd favorite “It’s All Gonna Break” which only served to solidify Broken Social Scene as one of the best live acts touring today.

Should Broken Social Scene play in your vicinity, don’t hesitate to go. Even those who are unfamiliar with their songs will leave as fans.

Sunday: April 18th
Artists Featured

Owen Pallett
Deerhunter
Sunny Day Real Estate
Jónsi
Phoenix
Atoms for Peace
Gorillaz

Coachella 2010 In Photos: Friday
Coachella 2010 In Photos: Saturday

Saturday: April 17th
Artists Featured

Camera Obscura
White Rabbits
Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros
The XX
Faith No More
Muse
Die Antwoord
Devo

Coachella 2010 In Photos: Friday
Coachella 2010 In Photos: Sunday

Friday: April 16th
Artists Featured

Deer Tick
Yeasayer
She & Him
Gil Scott-Heron
Them Crooked Vultures
LCD Soundsystem
Fever Ray

Coachella 2010 In Photos: Saturday
Coachella 2010 In Photos: Sunday

There are two common misconceptions that people have before going to see The Tallest Man On Earth; firstly that he is tall and secondly that he is just a man who stands in front of a microphone plucking a guitar and singing. Both of these are refuted the instant Kristian Matsson takes to the stage. Despite being vertically challenged (if that is truly the politically correct terminology) Matsson instantly commanded the crowd to be silent with a simple finger to the lips before launching into the opening title track of his new record The Wild Hunt.

Playing from both his now-renowned debut Shallow Grave and his soon-to-be-released follow up, he enthralled the crowd from beginning to end. His voice was even more powerful than on record, and even when crowd members sang along to favourites such as “The Gardener” he drowned them out. Throughout the show he stamped and tramped his way around the stage in any instant he could get away from the microphone, getting lost in his performance but always returning to center stage just in time to deliver the next vocal. Often he came right to the edge of the stage to look out over the crowd, evidently enjoying this privileged viewpoint, surveying individual audience members for extended moments. Between songs he spent a long time retuning his guitar, but the crowd were patient and chatted amongst themselves as Matsson looked on with a keen glint in his eye, hinting of an intellect teetering on the brink between ingenious and insane.

His vocal delivery never seemed less than genuine, his expressive nature came through loud and clear in his performance. He ranged from seemingly genuinely enraged during “Honey Won’t You Let Me In?” to strained in “You’re Going Back” and quietly contemplative in “Troubles Will Be Gone.” For a finale he invited a female friend of his onstage for a duet, both of them stumbled around the stage merrily before teetering back in towards the microphone to produce perfectly harmonised vocals that created a beautiful spectacle to end the main set.

For the encore he performed what he says is his newest song; a slow and beautiful ballad that was the ideal wind-down for an energetic evening. Before leaving the stage he blew kisses to the crowd and seemed genuinely honoured and humbled by the hero worship he received. The night was an out and out triumph for Matsson whose star is still rising. The next time he’s in town it’s guaranteed to be even more special; he’s bringing his banjo!

Off the top of my head I can’t actually recall ever going to a gig where there were no vocalists. This means no means of communication between the artist and the audience and they have nothing but the music to dazzle them instead of an occasional witty comment or the telling of the story behind the song. This gig was actually quite different to many I had been to before. There was no table for merchandise; the artists came onto the stage by working their way through the crowd and everyone was dancing.

However the moving of feet and nodding of heads wasn’t immediate. Rocketnumbernine took to the stage with the inevitable semi circle of an unsure audience surrounding the stage. At first it felt like there was a huge turn to wait for in the music but it soon became clear that the effect came from the way the synths and drums grew. Ben and Tom Page make an impressive pair, sporting respectively what appeared to be a touch screen oscillator and a mixture of live and programmed drums. The breaks in-between each song was fairly obvious but never did the pace dwindle and as soon as one tone had faded out a new one was swiftly following it with a concise and articulated drum beat behind it.

At the best of moments the pair on stage melded their sound: Ben throwing in some tribal beats and making the distinction as who was creating each sound hard to define. But it was the bass that overwhelmed me. Perhaps I was just standing in the right place but the music rattled my insides, intimidating me almost with the way it vibrated the floor and myself. Oddly and also of notice was the way each member played. It’s hard to match the movement and energy of a drum player when you’ve got little more than a keyboard in front of you but Ben was soaking up every bit of reverb and echo he created. He was eating up his own creation but when it’s as overwhelming as this, I can’t really blame him.

Hendrick Weber – the man who is the rightfully acclaimed Pantha du Prince – looks simultaneously much like I thought he would and also nothing what I thought he would be. He appears and begins his set twinkling his toybox rhythms with a jacket and an odd hood covering most of his face. When you listen to one of his records you imagine Weber to be one of these people who doesn’t make public appearances, hiding himself away from public attention so the focus stays primarily on the music. His shadowed face and layers of garments seems to confirm this image but as he washes through his idyllic pieces he takes off the hood and jacket and reveals himself as a surprisingly young looking professional of sorts with the top button of his shirt done up and his hair kept relatively neatly.

But I can’t say I really cared or noticed this immediately. I’ll admit, I’m still taking in Black Noise and haven’t had the full effect of it hit me quite yet but I know the music is special and worth the attention. Tonight something happened that’s never happened at a live gig before and only happens usually when I’m listening to a record I know down to every fine detail. I became transfixed, hypnotized and put into a trance by Weber’s music. I was lost in a dazzling world of thick bass, shimmering melodies and sublime beats. Soon enough I became ignorant of the crowd around me, only woken every so often when cheers would come from the audience when the Weber broke down the melodies to little more than a beat or a bass line. It was like I had fallen asleep in some way, but was still moving about, swaying my body and nodding my head. Everything else might as well not have mattered because all I was hearing was the music. My heartbeat might as well have stopped because all I could feel going through me was the beats he created on stage. And then it stopped. Cut short by his curfew, Weber shrugged at the audience. It was one of those times where the music could have gone on for hours and you likely wouldn’t have complained at all but as another great artist of this genre says, “Good Things End.”

Another difference this gig has that immediately ranked it higher still was the time it took to set up the next artist. Before I’ve managed to fully confirm once more where I am and try figure out what had just happened to me, Keiran Hebden (aka Four Tet) had taken the stage. The set up in front of me was decisively familiar, with nothing more than a table with a few laptops on it and a plentiful amount of gizmos and gadgets. The beginning was inevitable but Hebden didn’t throw the crowd straight into it. Instead he washed their ear drums out with faint murmurs and notes of a voice until from beneath its surface came the sublime cut up sequence that make “Angel Echoes”. Though the cutting up of the voice has a few ragged edges (it’s better for this) it matches the face of its creator. Hebden looks both tired and switched on, with blackened shadows under his eyes juxtaposing a welcoming smile he gave to the crowd when they sounded their appreciation.

Once again I was thrown into a daze, engrossed by the sound coming from the stage though perhaps this time with more avid movement. The difference with Hebden was that he provided a breather for the audience instead of morphing his set into one huge piece. It proved just as effective as serving it all as one. The audience was able to show their love and it also built the tension more as he began the whirring that leads to the superb single from There Is Love In You, “Love Cry.” The song went down as well as one could expect but it was the nuanced touches he made that created the best effect. He’d tease the audience into thinking it was whittling down before bringing back the beat again or he would hold out the pauses for an extra few bars to make the release all the more rewarding.

Quite naturally the audience adored his masterful skills of creation on stage. Though it’s hard to tell what noises he’s actually making on stage there is not denying Hebden’s skill at controlling and giving the best to the crowd. It’s little surprise once you see him live why he was given not one but two DJ spots in famous London clubs. The crowd swayed, hopped, nodded their heads or just stood mesmerized by the music. The venue was full but everyone moved around freely, strangers passing a knowing gaze into each other’s eyes as they agree on the sublime content of tonight’s show. One girl was even making stickers that expressed the admiration for the man on stage for those around her. There was love in us all and if it wasn’t at least a mutual kind between everyone, then it was most definitely a great kind for Four Tet.

Radiohead recently put on a gig at the Fonda Theatre in Los Angeles to raise money for Haiti. Being only 1,300 capacity – it was a rare experience for anyone that was lucky enough to be able to go. Because the venue was so small, concert goers were treated to an intimate setting, and a unique live experience from Radiohad.

The band took the stage at 8:30, as Yorke and Greenwood quietly approached the stage as they kicked the show off with “Faust Arp.” Without any stage set up, they were covered in shadow as they set the mood for the rest of the show. The whole place was quiet, and as Greenwood plucked the last string, you could hear a pin drop, as people were in awe. Yorke slyly told fans to “sing along to this next song, I might have forgotten the words” – as he kicked into “Fake Plastic Trees.” From here on out, Yorke made it obvious this show was for the fans that had come to participate in this charity event.

Because the band lacked any stage set up (compared to previous tours) – it really felt like the band was just up there jamming in a practice session. It was very fascinating to see, and throughout the night they would have their fare share of slip-ups. But these moments actually enhanced the experience, as you were getting to witness the band play loose – and even *gasp* a little bit sloppy. But moments like this were few and far between, and when they did screw up, the band made sure to kick it back into gear and jump back into the song in perfect sync.

One of the more endearing moments came when Yorke announced the total earnings that were made for the event. “Gross, fuck me. $572,754 dollars. That’s over half a million dollars alright”. At one point in the show, he jokingly asked the audience how they got the money to pay for this gig. “So, what did you do to get the tickets? Borrowed money from dad? Blackmailed your boss? …Sold your bike?” As the crowd was yelling out various answers, it was clear that Yorke had a great time playing with the crowd in between songs.

The setlist was twenty-four songs total, and was close to two hours in length. Although the band did not debut any new songs (besides “Lotus Flower” which was played at Thom’s solo shows) – the live show seemed to serve as useful tool, as the band got to take a break from recording the new album, as they played through songs spanning almost their entire discography (debut album Pablo Honey was not represented). While the show was auction based – and as was to be expected, celebrities came out in masses to see the event, there was actually a good amount of “middle income” fans that paid the minimum to get in. These same folks waited in line ten plus hours – excited at the prospects of seeing their favorite band in such a small venue. The show was more than worth it. Whether you were there just for the show, donating to Haiti, or both – the event was a joyous celebration, and a unique one at that.

*Wanted to also give a special thanks to Marc Nguyen for taking some of the photos used in this piece.

Setlist:
01 Faust Arp [Thom and Jonny]
02 Fake Plastic Trees
03 Weird Fishes/Arpeggi
04 The National Anthem
05 Nude
06 Karma Police
07 Kid A
08 Morning Bell
09 How To Disappear Completely
10 A Wolf at the Door
11 The Bends
12 Reckoner
13 Lucky
14 Bodysnatchers
15 Dollars & Cents
16 Airbag
17 Exit Music

Encore #1:
18 Everything In Its Right Place [Thom Solo]
19 You And Whose Army?
20 Pyramid Song
21 All I Need

Encore #2:
22 Lotus Flower [New Song/Thom Solo]
23 Paranoid Android
24 Street Spirit (Fade Out)

Before we start, I apologise for any lack of objectivity there may seem to be during this review. There will be every intension to stray away from hyperbole, but if any creeps through, please understand, it’s only due to the amount of sheer adoration I have for the musicians featured in this show. I should explain that the various landmarks in the short history of Monsters of Folk that have lead up to this point have all sent me jumping for the ceiling with glee and excitement. A chance to experience it all first hand was an opportunity I was not going to pass up.

The definition of the word “supergroup,” Monsters of Folk brings together the masterminds behind Omaha’s Bright Eyes, Conor Oberst and Mike Mogis, alongside M. Ward and My Morning Jacket frontman Jim James. This rabble of indie-folk heroes was making its time in the UK quite brief, with only two shows in Britain before hopping the channel to mainland Europe. Tonight’s show in England’s capital was preceded with a late addition stop last night in the Welsh capital, Cardiff. As I made my way down to London on the day of the show, I filtered through most of the immediate responses to the Cardiff show online, some going as far as saying it was “the best gig Cardiff had hosted in 10 years.” Having spent quite a bit of time in Cardiff and having seen what it’s got to offer, I thought this to be quite a bold statement; but all the same, I reveled in the fact that it could hold some truth.

The Troxy in East London was the venue for tonight’s gig. A wonderfully large, pastel-adorned, art deco-type affair that one could imagine being used as a set for a scene in Miami Vice. Once the crowd had finally filtered in – despite the incompetence of much of the venue’s staff and with no arranged support act – the band rocked up to stage and, without a word, tore it down with opening number “Say Please.”

A three-hour (or so) epic then ensued. A large crowd, some more patient and appreciative than others, were treated to a variety of the Monsters of Folk’s own original compositions, combined with work from the extremely large collective back catalogue of all those performing. Even the band’s touring drummer, Centro-Matic frontman Will Johnson, stepped out from behind the kit for a duet with his pal Jim James.

Plenty of the audience were more than happy to have music thrown at them from all angles for the duration. However, one criticism for such a long show may be that an interval could have been a good idea. Restroom breaks and bar visits caused a few disturbances throughout the set. Having said that, taking it in turns and switching around those on stage for certain numbers, the band worked hard to keep the crowd entertained, sliding seamlessly through rockier My Morning Jacket tracks and the subtle quiet numbers of Bright Eyes and M. Ward.

A particular highlight for me was seeing Conor Oberst and Mike Mogis let rip on a handful of classic Bright Eyes tracks. The tour following 2007′s Cassadaga for many took Bright Eyes in a different direction, recreating some of their older material and largely ignoring calls for their more favoured tracks. So on this rare occasion, it was delightful to see the pair put smiles on plenty of people’s faces with the likes of “We Are Nowhere And It’s Now” and “At The Bottom of Everything.” Conor, not necessarily famed for his abilities as a vocalist, also lent a couple of verses to Jim James. With his hauntingly amazing vocal range and abilities, the My Morning Jacket frontman quite literally filled the room with harmonies and sent shivers down the spines of all those present.

The encore performance was the icing on the cake to a wonderful evening. Everyone on stage was clearly caught in a moment and reveling in the ecstasy of performance. Jim James busted out his best moves, gyrating and spinning in a fashion that would make James Brown proud, and Oberst delighted in destroying Will Johnson’s drum kit and even toppling the piano before exiting the stage.

Whilst the band’s self-titled debut album, released earlier this year, may have sparked mixed reviews, the reservations about it are certainly made up for in the live performance. Monsters of Folk is a group made up of some of the most vibrant and talented performers of our generation, and with their live show, they have proven themselves as such, the aptly named Monsters of Folk.

Set List:

Say Please
The Right Place
Soul Singer in a Session Band
Slow Down Jo
Man Named Truth
Lullabye & Exile
We Are Nowhere and It’s Now
The Big Picture
Golden
Ahead of the Curve
Vincent O’Brien
Wonderful (The Way I Feel)
Chinese Translation
One Hundred Million Years
Smoke Without Fire
At Dawn
Baby Boomer
Dear God (Sincerely M.O.F.)
Temazcal
To Save Me
Kathy With A K’s Song
Goodway
Nothing Makes Sense
Look At You
Lime Tree
One Life Away
Map Of The World
Sandman, the Brakeman and Me
Smokin’ from Shootin’
Hit the Switch
Losin’ Yo’ Head

Encore 1

At the Bottom of Everything
Whole Lotta Losin’
Another Travelin’ Song
His Master’s Voice

EDITOR’S NOTE:
The photo used above is from a 2007 Bright Eyes/M. Ward show. There was a strict ‘No Photography’ policy at the Troxy show.

With Julian Plenti live, as on record, if you are expecting a watered down version of Interpol you are sorely mistaken. Quite bluntly put, Paul Banks as Julian Plenti simply rocks harder live than he does with his other band. This is not a knock on Interpol (who are one of my favorite live bands around), but their music is just not the kind that you “rock out” to. On that note, with one of the common misconceptions about Paul Banks’ other band being that live they are rather unengaged, I don’t think anyone can make that mistake about Julian Plenti as a live entity after seeing him at Chop Suey in Seattle.

The show opened with an instrumental cover of the song “Mythsysizer” by J Dilla, which was a suitably ominous way to start the show (naturally). Julian Plenti then – with his band (which he mentioned were all friends from Brooklyn, with the solid opening act I’m In You being from Brooklyn as well) – went on to play through the entire album, along with a cover of the America song “Horse with No Name” and what looks to be a new original song titled “Goodbye Toronto.” This song was preceded by the first few lines of “Let it Snow” (yes, the Christmas song) before Plenti and company jumped into what is easily the heaviest thing that Banks has ever done, which had Plenti moving around what little bit of the stage there was and jamming out to it (check out my video below to listen to the song – sorry for the basically non-existent video quality, but the sound is decent).

The fact that he opened this new song with “Let It Snow” is a good demonstration of the atmosphere of the show. It was a rather informal affair, one where Mr. Plenti constantly engaged the crowd (not exactly what he is known for) by saying thank you after every song, as well as even having conversations with fans on two occasions. He almost seemed taken aback at points by the crowd’s reaction and mentioned at least once how happy he was to be back playing at smaller venues again (and Chop Suey is tiny, which just added to the intimate atmosphere of the show). As the show ended, all the fans front and middle pushed forward reaching their hands out, and at first Plenti looked at this, not really knowing what to do, but he soon stepped forward and gave everyone he could a high five before leaving the stage.

He would not have gotten this reaction if the music wasn’t good and the band weren’t tight, which they were. Many songs were improved live, with the overall set highlight easily being the album opener, “Only If You Run.” While this is a standout on record, it is a different beast entirely in person. The song is transformed from a smooth, mid-tempo opener on record to an in-your-face rocker live. I was surprised that they simply improved on what is already a very good song. A more surprising set highlight for me was “Madrid Song,” which Plenti and friends changed from a mellow piano/sample-ridden track to a straight up droney guitar song. Other songs that were improved were “H,” “Fun That We Have,” and “Games for Days.” “H” seemed even more like a great little Mogwai jam in person, while rockers like “Fun That We Have” and “Games for Days” seemed to benefit from the rawness of the performance and the setting. The mellow songs like “No Chance Survivor,” “Skyscraper,” and “On the Esplanade” sounded great as well (the last of those benefitted from the drums and great cello parts), but it is clear that Julian and friends are a rock band at heart in a live setting.

In the end, Julian Plenti showed another side of himself live (much like he did with his album), one that proved that he cannot be pigeon-holed into the reserved monotone lead singer of a well-dressed New York post-punk band (granted he was still well-dressed last night). I have to say that when I got tickets to this show I expected that only fans of Plenti would be interested in this show, but now I will say that if you are even just a casual fan of Paul Banks in any way, either as Plenti or with Interpol, I suggest you catch this show not only because it was a great gig that surpassed my expectations, but with Interpol’s recent rise in fame, you won’t get to see him in this setting (a small, intimate club) again for a while, if ever.

Sneaky Pete’s really isn’t a venue where people should be casually sitting down on the floor to enjoy the music. As Edinburgh’s rising new venue, with a varied host of both promising and established bands, the attendance rate is often high to maximum making from even more cramped conditions if people decided to feel more at home in this tiny venue.

But when those in front rows decided to put ass to floor it was all too easy to follow their actions because, you know, standing can be a rather tiring and numbing activity at gigs. And in fairness the music of opening band Eagleowl, is probably best taken in a more relaxing position. The songs are uncomplicated and deliberately set at a slightly meandering pace but never boring as one might expect from such descriptive qualities. Songs had slight yet subtle rhythms that took you in but never trapped you as hazy vocals are occasionally sung. It’s a simple set up with just a double bass and a guitar that seeped the audience into their listening proclivities for the night.

I was only expecting Eagleowl tonight so I have to admit that Dry the River came and started with a surprise – I thought they were just roadies. But surprises are always welcome by myself and this quartet from down south proved a most jaunty and pleasant one. With twinkling glockenspiel and catchy melodies, comparisons to the likes of Noah And the Whale found their way to mind but as their set progressed I felt desired to throw this out. The overall sound is fuller and satisfying taking cues from recent Americana folk with drums that often scurried and were more than easy to tap your foot to. Recent cuts from their latest EP The Chambers & The Valves sounded complete and likable due to a smiling eagerness the band seemed to have.

Bowerbirds have been rightfully riding on the continued momentum latest album Upper Air has brought them. Though perhaps not as solid as their debut it had more than enough moments to entrance the listener along with continuing to act on the strengths the band had already made clear. Then, perhaps, seeing them live is the hat trick an avid fan needs to complete the fondness they will most likely have already mustered up through repeated playing of their songs and the friendly familiarity that is the result of doing so.

But as charming as the music is from them, Bowerbirds do have their deeper and darker side. Tonight it came with oddly stark yet non-deliberate emphasis on their ecological awareness that seeps into their lyrics. For some odd reason lines such as “It takes a lot of nerve to destroy this wondrous earth/ We’re only human; this at least we’ve learned” and the perhaps more subtle and subjective “show me all that you sacrificed” resonated in the increasingly hot and congested venue. I guess it goes to show that despite a sense of familiarity, things can still take on a different meaning from simply putting yourself in a new environment with them.

The material tonight leaned more on work from the latest album but the audience seemed happy with everything they were served from the pleasant tumble of “Northern Lights” to the thoughtful pace of “Hooves.” Up close it become clear also how intricate the melodies are as Phil Moore plucks as it his guitar, so expertly but so casually. Beth’s accordion did however lose the deep sound it captured on record but this but a minor qualm that could just be a technical fault. The only other real criticisms I could have put to their set was that it felt all too swift and also that it was disappointing for “Ghost Life” to not make an appearance for its bopping melodious chorus would have surely been a crowd pleaser, getting more than a few to sing along most likely. But really this was just Bowerbirds confirming something I already knew, that they are a commendable band who deserve to be still riding the waterfall of praise they created through their own doing. And I’m more than happy to have this confirmed to me again, whether it is just listening to their albums again or taking the chance to see them live.

I had never seen a stage so cluttered as that of the Barbican on the night the London Symphony Orchestra and Grizzly Bear collaborated. Before laying my eyes on the stage it hadn’t quite computed with me that we would be seeing the full orchestra on show. I had expected a stripped down affair, similar to Grizzly Bear’s performance with a string quartet on Letterman earlier this year. I was in for a lot more than I had bargained for.

The stage was so packed support act St. Vincent was forced into a tight area slightly off the centre of the stage and nearing the edge, leaving her little room to maneuver. Nevertheless she slid and writhed around to the music in the little space afforded. Annie Clark has been touring as St. Vincent all year. This happens to be the third time I’ve seen her, and she’s had a different setup each time. On the first occasion she was the sole figure on stage and provided a spellbinding performance in an intimate venue, the second time she was accompanied by a full band which packed more of a punch, but perhaps lost some of the elegance of the songs. This time she was accompanied by only one other musician, who switched between violin and guitar, and her trusty looping pedals. The stripped down arrangements of the songs were nice enough, but would have been more suited to a smaller venue; a lot of the atmosphere was lost in the cavernous theatre.

When it was time for the headline performance, the London Symphony Orchestra sidled on in orderly fashion, took up their positions, and patiently waited for the arrival of Grizzly Bear. The four young men shortly followed them on to the stage, sharply dressed for this special occasion and took up their positions, lined up across the front of the stage. The music began without a word and the orchestra instantly made themselves known, providing a bed of strings to back up “Easier,” the opening track from 2006′s Yellow House.

The surprising thing about the arrangements for the night is that they were generally quite subtle and only fortified what are already a very strong set of songs that Grizzly Bear have in their catalogue. Only on a few occasions did they really wrestle the attention away from the band. On the singles from Veckatimest “Two Weeks” and “While You Wait For The Others” the orchestra took a break and let Grizzly Bear play as they would on any other night, except accompanied by additional grand piano played by Nico Muhly, who also composed the orchestral arrangements for tonight’s show.

The band members themselves were all on exceptional form and in fine spirits. They seemed honoured to have been presented the opportunity but not awkward, they thanked everyone profusely and even joked about the fact that the crowd clapped too early at the finale of “Knife” meaning that the special orchestral ending had to be abandoned. Musically, the band were tight, particularly the singing, which each member played their part in. Lead-singer Edward Droste’s vocals never wavered in quality from the powerful “Central and Remote” to the delicate cover of The Crystals’ “He Hit Me.” The real star of the show though was Grizzly Bear’s exceptional drummer Christopher Bear. Even with dozens of other performers on the stage, the majority of the night my eyes were focused on him. Just as the conductor led the orchestra, Bear truly is the maestro in the Grizzly Bear live performance, keeping perfect time and incorporating fascinating rhythms into their performance without being superfluous.

The main set finished with a stirring performance of “I Live With You” which flowed brilliantly into the beautiful “Foreground.” The band exited the stage, but the orchestra remained in their seats, making it obvious that an encore was planned, and left me wondering why they even bothered to leave. It did mean that the crowd could could give them a standing ovation, which was deserved. The single song encore bookended the night neatly with Yellow House‘s closing song “Colorado.”

Once the band left the stage for the final time, the crowd was free to spill out into the foyer of the Barbican and beyond, to gush about the virtuoso performance they had just witnessed, to compare notes about what worked and what didn’t, and to debate about which song was the highlight. On a night when nobody can have been entirely sure what to expect, Grizzly Bear can rest assured in the fact that nobody leaving the Barbican that night was left disappointed.

Set list:

Grizzly Bear

Easier
Cheerleader
Southern Point
Central and Remote
All We Ask
Knife
Fine For Now
Two Weeks
Dory
Ready Able
While You Wait For the Others
He Hit Me
I Live With You
Foreground
——————-
Colorado

St. Vincent

Marry Me
Jesus Saves, I Spend
Actor Out Of Work
Oh My God
Save Me From What I Want
The Party
Marrow
What Me Worry

The Arches in Glasgow is a spectacular venue. What was derelict space beneath Glasgow’s Central Station is now 65,000 square feet of space transformed into various bars, cafes and stages. However, the main stage itself still retains a great deal of its charm. Bricked arched walls with pipes running across the centre of the ceiling make for undeniably classic touches that make it feel like some alternate version of the opening of Blade – like everyone is suddenly going to start gorging on blood much to my bewilderment. Thankfully this did not happen and really I couldn’t be having of such activities because the prospect of Phoenix became more exciting when placed in such an immediately impressive venue.

The unfortunate part of the evening came from having to watch the support band Chairlift. Not to instantly dismiss them but compliments are so hard to muster up for a band who either suffered unfortunate technical difficulties or just desired to destroy the audiences eardrums before hearing more than ten minutes of music. For a band who are finding fame from being featured on an itunes advert from boppy bass driven “Bruises”, the rest of their music doesn’t hold any other similar quality. Seemingly scantily dressed, singer/keyboardist Caroline Polachek sings high and furiously at points but her shriek is so badly fed through the wires it leads to the aforementioned ear torture.

The synthetic, almost Duran Duran-esque music itself was equally questionable: the hooks weren’t nearly tantalizing enough to remember or penetrate and too often the noise was too thick to be engrossed by comfortably. The band themselves had odd qualities but not in a charming or quirky manner, rather a slight pretentiousness about them for something the music fails to back up: Polachek crooned over an unenthusiastic crowd while Aaron Pfenning stood mechanically at the side, overtly impressed that he can play his guitar while holding it up slightly in the air. But I feel may have understood the music wrong or heard it in the incorrect environment, leading to my dismissal of it. Yet when “Bruises” closed their set, I was so unmoved I could barely find desire to tap my foot, hoping more that she sung at just the right pitch and distance from the microphone so I wouldn’t have the song piercing through my head with a threatened literal effect.

But when Phoenix took to the stage all thought of what came before was lost and suddenly I found myself overwhelmed with such excitement that when the chorus of the still exceptional “Lisztomania” kicked in I was jumping up and down like a child at the prospect of Disneyland. With its contrasting sparse verse to its infectiously rallying chorus, “Long Distance Call” would seem a bad choice to continue the opening excitement on paper. Practice is such a wondrously different thing I care not to even dwell on such written theories. In the hands of anyone else I can only imagine that the brief guitar riff in “Lasso” would be overused and lose any thrilling effect. Phoenix, of course, use it for maximum effect by keeping it brief and instead putting the emphasis on the scurrying drums, building to another near invulnerable chorus.

The material from their latest, Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix, was as enthralling as one might hope for, if not more so, even when they change the songs structures: “Fences” was cut shorter but the band gave the audience the most importance essence of it as they were bathed it bars of blue light; “Love Like a Sunset” saw guitarists Laurent and Christian playing off each other under spotlights before singer, Mars, stood up from the temporary resting place he took on stage. But songs from the previous albums sounded just as good: when “Napoleon Says” began it hit with such a force I almost fell back; “Run Run Run” on the other hand had me glued to the spot with the enthusiasm it was played with.

It must also be said that Mars also knows how to work and appreciate a crowd. When “Girlfriend” and “Armistice” were played in succession, the crowd were treated to not just the band extending the outro of the latter song but also to Mars singing at the barrier as the crowd raised their hands in joyous appreciation. By the time the encore was set to end he jumped the barrier completely and walked through the crowd. Although he was amongst them, the fans still didn’t know whether to concentrate on him or the band playing “1901” on stage. Music this good hits you from all directions.

I never take the ariel view at gigs unless I’ve been seated there and have no choice. My simple desire is to wander to the barrier at the front to get as near as I can to the artist I admire enough to have paid my hard-earned cash to see. Chalk it up to ignorance or the fact I’ve only been to this venue once before, but it turns out there’s a whole different level, not just to the Picturehouse, but to seeing bands themselves. My friend led me up through the congested venue as Yeasayer took the stage.

Admittedly I never actually got around to listening to All Hour Cymbals but as they took the stage, their presence was a pleasant surprise, not because of the promising hype I had heard regarding the Brooklyn band, but because of their set-up, which mirrored the packed crowd’s presence in being full with speakers, keyboards, drum sets and other electronic musical instruments. Their sound came across as cheerful, often shifting, but never too drastically. They kept regular and loud beats as echoing guitars and electronics – at times recalling Animal Collective – were bundled into the mix. One band member was even sporting a full camouflaged army suit, which from a distance looked like a pair of funky 80s pyjamas. The band seemed enthusiastic but not necessarily in a childish way, but rather in a satisfied and contented way. They deserve to sound as confident as they do because they’ve got a funky and enjoyable mix here that almost makes me feel guilty for not investigating earlier.

There’s a tantalizing anticipation for a Bat for Lashes show. Natasha Khan has always had a certain theatrical element to her music and the cover art for her glorious second album Two Suns only leads one to expect a somewhat glittery live show. However the performance itself is showy, but in a more subtle manner. As she opens with the thunderous “Glass”, lightening cracks on the screens placed around the stage against a desolate desert scene, lights trickle and highlight those in focus, which isn’t always Khan herself. Much appreciation has to be (and duly is) paid to her band of multi-instrumentalists who move from keyboards to guitars to ringing bells or adding more percussion to the likes of “Two Planets”.

The sparser, but perhaps catchier material from her debut album Fur And Gold sounds better amidst the songs of Two Suns. “What’s A Girl To Do?” was transformed creature compared to the studio version, while the choruses for “Trophy” and “The Wizard” sounded almost more impacting than when hearing them on record. In reality the majority of people that filled the Picturehouse were there to be taken in by the newer material and this was most evident when “Daniel” began, not building but instead going straight into synths that provoked parts of the crowd to dance. The embracing build of “Siren Song” had the crowd entranced as the strings went into a chaotic flourish and the drums rumbled to a climax as Khan sat playing furiously and passionately at the piano.

The biggest surprise and the personal highlight of the evening came from the encore. A TV screen was rolled to the centre of the stage and Khan took place beside it. Her alter ego from the second album; Pearl, flickered on and I said to myself as the first ripple of notes resonated, “Holy shit, they’re playing “The Big Sleep!” I never expected it to make an appearance due to the absence of Scott Walker’s vocal contribution which has a sombre detuning effect on the album’s inner fury. But really, who else is more suited to replace Walker than Khan herself? The end result is captivating and brings another perspective to the song and makes one wonder how much of a real demon Pearl was to control. The song melted into “Wilderness” followed by the night’s conclusion of an energetic take on “Prescilla,” the crowd all the while tried to keep up with its snappy clapping rhythm, the majority eventually gave up and let the band do the work. After all, these songs speak for themselves, even when it’s done through a fictional character and TV screen.

To the untrained eye, Oh My God singer Billy O’Neill seems like everything your parents tried to shield you from when you were young. His brash, violent, feral onstage persona looks more like a vision from a bad acid trip than soulful crooner. It’s that kind of juxtaposition that defines the Oh My God live show.

Subtlety is simply not part of the Oh My God live show. O’Neill may attract the most attention, but the driving force behind the sound is keyboardist Ig. The electric-shriek emanating from his instrument is an unlikely counterpoint to the shockingly pretty sound of O’Neill’s Michael Stipe-esque vocals. There’s perhaps no more earnest singer working today. O’Neill infuses each song with a different emotion, from the intentionally half-hearted delivery on the word ‘boring’ during the chorus “The Unbearable Pageant” to the raging confusion of “Fools Want Noise.”

One of my main concerns going into the show was how the new band members were going to work with the band. Very well, it turns out; these certainly aren’t ‘rent-a-musicians.’ The onstage camaraderie plays like the kind developed over years, not mere months. New guitarist and vocalist Zach Verdoorn sounds great backing O’Neill, and new drummer Danny Yost keeps a steady beat.

Oh My God is on tour again behind new album, The Night Undoes The Work Of The Day. About a third of the show is made up of new material; more than any other individual Oh My God album. New songs that felt somewhat limp on record come to life in this setting. The rhythm of “My Own Adventure” sounds a lot more danceable live. “Baby There’s Nothing Wrong (You Just Gotta Go To Work)” comes off better in this setting as well, seething with a wrath that was more understated on the album. Sounds pretty raging, yet those are only the ‘lighter’ songs.

The band hit top gear about midway through the set. Upon introducing “Facewash,” O’Neill states, “Here’s a question all of you have the same answer to.” It’s not so much the power as the attacking of social taboos that beat the audience into submission. The frontman addresses topics such as the US’s continued presence in Iraq. However, O’Neill serves these issues with a sense of humor. He possesses a unique ability to not take himself so seriously, an ability highlighted by his pink short-shorts worn over bright red pants. Every attack on your sensibilities is delivered with a wink and smirk. Behind his juvenile behavior belies intelligence, which comes through best on the stage banter.

I’ve been to a lot of shows in the last several months, and the ones that stand out to me in hindsight are the ones that brought the audience into the performance, which is precisely what Oh My God performance accomplished. One cannot simply observe the band play, rather they are dragged into the show willingly or otherwise.

Openers:
Anthony Gravino
Curb Service
Heyokas

Setlist:
• The Unbearable Pageant
• Fools Want Noise
• Action!
• Two-Hand Touch
• Baby There’s Nothin’ Wrong (You Just Gotta Go To Work)
• My Own Adventure
• Bring Yourself
• Torture
• Facewash
• Liberal
• My Life Is A Warfare
• Get Steady
• One Thing Leads To Another

Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space was never meant for the studio. Spritualized’s 1997 opus is an album with more scope, ambition and magnificence than almost any album in the past twenty years, but the studio version that was released was only an approximation of what Spiritualized really intended the record to sound like, as proven by their performance of the album in its true entirety at London’s Royal Festival Hall. The fact that they extended 70 minutes of studio material into a 96 minute epic live performance is just the simplest way of explaining how the album was was proliferated for the stage.

At 8.30pm on the dot, the stage started to fill with the various musicians who took part in the evening. On stage the band formed a semi-circle, no single member taking centre-stage, each one with an equally important role in maintaining and energizing the music. Behind them were three groups of people, from stage left to right there was a gospel choir, a brass sextet and a string ensemble. In total 32 performers, those on stage left; the choir and J. Spaceman, were dressed in all white whilst the rest of the performers were dressed entirely in black, another simple yet effective way of adding a theatrical nature to the exhibition.

The eponymous opening track of the album capitalized upon the Royal Festival Hall’s state of the art sound system, exploiting its full potential as the strings, brass, voices along with the band themselves brought the song into glorious existence. Once this subsided the stage was drowned in darkness shortly followed by the build up into the rambunctious “Come Together,” which saw the audience fastened to their seats, eyes glued on the stage like a collective group of rabbits frozen in the headlights of an oncoming 18-wheeler. Each song was embellished and transformed by the inclusion of the additional musicians, each group got their time to shine and together they took the performance somewhere far beyond the reaches of the average gig. The evening was so unique for a rock concert that after the ear-splitting crescendo that rounded off “Electricity”, which falls exactly in the middle of the album, I half expected that an interlude was about to be called. Fortunately this was not the case and Spiritualized marched onwards towards the resounding conclusion. Each song was transcendent and picking highlights is almost impossible from a gestalt performance such as this one, but the delicately elegant hymn of “Broken Heart” deserves to be mentioned, as it was the moment when the lump in my throat was most prominent. Spaceman’s crushing vocals cut a harsh tone against the soft and sweeping strings and grandiose horns, together describing the feeling and emotions of a broken heart with brutal accuracy.

Finally the album closer arrived and combined everything brilliant about the evening and the project into one 18-minute amalgamation that sustained the audience’s captivation throughout. At the conclusion the audience was on their feet in an instant giving the standing ovation that was so genuinely deserved, and that they probably would have given after each individual song had they not been so eager to hear the next one.

There was no need to provide an encore for on such a momentous evening, but Spiritualized obliged anyway, tacking on a spirited performance of “Out of Sight,” from Let It Come Down, to the delight of the capacity crowd.

The Royal Festival Hall was the perfect location for this performance–the audience seated while the band put on a show that was far cry from most live concerts wherein bands play a random assortment of songs from their back-catalogue one after another. Spiritualized’s portrayal of their work was much more than that; each song was dependent upon the preceding to set it up and then bled perfectly into the following one. The narrative of the album was kept sacred by the silence that was observed on-stage between each piece. On this night Spiritualized proved that it doesn’t take a multi-million pound stage or a technically brilliant light show to put on a life-changing show, all you have to do is focus on the songs and let the music itself be the spectacle.

Behind the bands tonight, against the wall played Bill Morrison’s 2002 film Decasia. If you’ve never seen or heard of it, it’s a montage of old decaying silent films from past decades. At times the footage is simple and seemingly bland such as waves crashing on rocks by a shore. Other times the film itself is so perished there’s nothing more than spoiled film flickering before your eyes. But occasionally beneath this distortion an image appears – a woman kneeling, for example. Within the most aged and warped facades there is always another side to see.

And tonight’s bands had a similar quality to them. Opening act Saint Jude’s Infirmary possess a certain kind of homely charm. “Taxi to the Ocean” twinkles with glockenspiel but soon keyboards and bass drown out all the initial wonder and turn it into something captivating. Picking cuts from their new album, This Has Been the Death of Us, the band sound more cohesive and appealing than when I saw them years back. They sound confident with the music they are now creating even when they go out on a whim and the bass player takes up vocals for the final track, stumbling about in a near erratic manner and singing like some possessed version of John Cooper Clause. It’s now perhaps I’d feel bad for letting them slip away from my consciousness for so many years.

Swanton Bombs are quite simply two of the most talented youngsters I’ve seen on stage in some time. But then again, it feels like it been some time since I’ve actually been to a gig where I would come across bands like this – snappy, ambitious, loud and, to some extent, devastatingly good. The guitars shift from style without much notice, going from garage rock riffs to blues all while the drums are pounded at a ferocious speed. It recalls Jay Reatard at his heavier moments but delivered with a kind of flair and enthusiasm that’s hard not to raise an eyebrow of impression towards.

Because of the size of the venue here, there was no dramatic entrance for Girls, all the way from San Francisco. They wandered on stage, setting up their own instruments and tuning up, all in perfect view of the crowd. But really this just makes it more enticing, as the crowd seeps forward. Despite donning a woollen jumper and scarf, lead singer Christopher Owen has an intimidating posture. Yet he seems at ease, despite the crooked angle and the tiny stage he is confined to. But even when “Lust For Life” or “Ghost Mouth” appear, he sounds like he’s as free as he needs to be – surrounded by about ninety people.

There’s an earnestness about the way he sings that makes the music appealing to me. Sure, it doesn’t hit any vastly new areas and his lyrics are clichéd at times, but that seems the point – the band did name their debut album Album, after all. Sometimes you don’t care that you’re doing something the same, you just want to do it because it’s soothing to the soul and it helps make things clearer. For Owen, life seems to revolve around love –he even covers Daniel Johnston’s “True Love Will Find You In The End” for the encore – and this does make for tale after tale of misplaced feelings. But the majority of commercial music has been about love, so really who’s to complain all of a sudden at Girls for carrying on the trend? Contrived it might be to a good amount of people – “Big Bad Mean Mother Fucker” pretty much is “Grease Lightening” with fuzzy guitars and three chord trick thrown in – but it’s also so easy to just enjoy.

Then, of course, there’s “Hellhole Ratrace”, the number most of the crowd tonight were here for. As the chorus came in the crowd harmonized with Owen which did bring a corny anthemic feel to it but hell, I was singing along too. It’s a desperate chorus he sings and we can all relate to either wanting to not “cry our whole lives through” or just wanting to “shake a leg or two”. Life fucks us over but the best part is getting up after the fall and song soundtracks this as well as you could hope.

As Girls played I found myself getting distractingly fixed on Decasia in the background. I thought of the broken and detuned original soundtrack the film has and how it compares to the music playing over the film now. It fits perfectly. Bill Morrison shows that images of life fade through time and we can’t remember something perfectly forever. Memories are fleeting, passing images and experiences in our heads. Owens sings from a tragic background at points but at least he seems to see the light at the end of the tunnel. That way, at least the memories won’t be so hard to encounter if they ever get restored in his mind.

Anyone that has been following Radiohead the past two years knows that the band has been more spontaneous than they have ever been. From the unexpected online release of In Rainbows to the recently released single “These Are My Twisted Words,” fans have come to expect the unexpected. Last Tuesday Thom Yorke announced on Dead Air Space that he had “been getting a band together for fun to play the eraser stuff live and the new songs”. The band consisted of Red Hot Chili Peppers bassist Flea, Radiohead producer Nigel Godrich, Beck/R.E.M. drummer Joey Waronker, and percussionist/multi-instrumentalist Mauro Refosco of Forro in the Dark. For three weeks the new (still unnamed) band rehearsed the entire Eraser album along with some new material. They were set to play two gigs the same week at the Orpheum Theatre in Los Angels. As if fans weren’t already knocked off their feet, Yorke had yet another surprise up his sleeve. That Thursday night, Yorke announced the new band would be playing a secret warm-up gig at the Echoplex – a 325 person venue, and tickets were to go on sale the very day of the show.

The Echoplex (as you can expect) sold out instantly. Ticket Web couldn’t even hold the traffic that was generating around the show, and it resulted in only a select lucky few to obtain tickets. I was one of the lucky few. The day of the Oprheum show had arrived, and I was wondering what to expect from this show, as I had just seen/witnessed an incredible band in their purest form at the warm up gig. In short, the band sounded even better. After working out the kinks at the Echo, the Orpheum show showed a band that sounded much tighter and rehearsed. Also noticeably different was that Yorke was less vocal with the crowd banter. If the immaculate 1920′s all seated theatre wasn’t indication enough, it was evident from the start that this was going to be a more professional show. As Yorke and the band first came out on stage, the entire crowd rose to their feet in an ovation. But the minute Yorke sat down to play the piano – so to did the crowd. Yes, everyone was sitting down at a Thom Yorke show. Such a stark contrast from the Bar show they played 2 days earlier. Eventually Yorke got the crowd to their feet on “Skip Divided” as he said he always imagined the Eraser as being a “dance album”. Everyone finally decided to stand, and the show really started to feel like a go.

The highlight of the Eraser material was Harrowdown Hill. The song had a new groove thanks to Flea, and the song just seemed explosive with energy. Flea was easily the best addition to the band. The entire show he was was dancing and jumping around on stage, and Yorke fed off his energy. You could tell that Flea had a great respect and admiration for Yorke, and that he was giving his all to the material. Often, Yorke dances and convulse around the stage by himself, but now he had Flea to feed off that energy. This to me, was the best part of the entire show. Seeing these two incredible musicians working together with great chemistry. After breathing new life into The Eraser (they played it front to back) the entire band left the stage. After about 2 min of clapping Yorke came back by himself to play some new songs – which were “Lotus Flower”, “Open The Floodgates” and the much requested “Super Collider”. Pretty funny seeing as at the Echo someone yelled at him to play it to which Thom replied [paraphrase] “I did not write it, and even if I did I do not know to play it”. The new songs were all stunning, and they definitely show a new musical direction for Yorke. “Lotus Flower” was the highlight out of the bunch (although many will argue Super Collider was the best moment of the show). The band eventually returned and they launched into “Paperbag Writer” – a Radiohead B-side. The song was much more funkier as Flea slapped away and Yorke danced erotically that would even have Mick Jagger envious.

The performance showed a group that has incredible chemistry together. While the Orpheum show was much tighter, it lacked some of the raw energy that their warm up gig had (understandably). But having been lucky enough to witness the intimate show, I much preferred that one. Not just because I was a foot from Thom Yorke – but because the band (particularly Yorke) seemed happier on stage then he has in years. He was glowing the entire show all smiles, and was constantly talking to the crowd and cracking jokes. I mean, Yorke giving someone the double middle finger in response to “play free bird” is something I will never get out of my head. He also played with his shirt open, of course a highlight. In all seriousness though, one would hope that this band decides to play again – maybe even record material together. They have captured something special (that not even Radiohead has) – and it would be a shame if this was only a one off thing.

Setlist:

1.The Eraser
2.Analyze
3.The Clock
4.Black Swan
5.Skip Divided
6.Atoms For Peace
7.And It Rained All Night
8.Harrowdown Hill
9.Cymbal Rush

Thom Solo (w/o band)

10.Lotus Flower / Moon Upon A Stick
11.Open The Floodgates
12.Super Collider

(w/band)

13.Paperbag Writer
14.Judge, Jury & Executioner
15.The Hollow Earth
16.Feeling Pulled Apart By Horses

The farewell tour is one of the most worn-out clichés in all of rock. Whenever a band announces it is breaking up, suspicion always arises that these claims are being made merely to sell a few extra tickets and to generate excitement for the reunion tour a year later. Everyone from the Who to the Smashing Pumpkins has fallen into this trap at one point, and the Eagles even displayed enough self-awareness to dub one recent such trek the “Farewell Tour: Part I.”

With that said, I am inclined to believe Trent Reznor when he says that the current run of Nine Inch Nails club dates is the end of touring life for his alt-rock powerhouse. Since getting sober and releasing his 2005 comeback album With Teeth, Reznor has been touring and recording pretty much constantly, and in the process has set a sterling example for how a band can succeed on his level without a record label. For him to want to take a break after five years of nonstop work is understandable. He deserves it. Not only that, but Reznor got engaged earlier this year for the first time, and has expressed frustration that a life of constant touring has left almost no time to have a personal life. Reznor is well into his 40s, and the fact that his engagement coincides with his retirement from the road makes perfect sense.

And besides, Reznor has repeatedly stated that he does not want to wind up like Gene Simmons or Mick Jagger, continuing to hash out “Head Like a Hole” in basketball arenas well past the point of self-parody. He wants to quit while he’s ahead, and judging by NIN’s Sept. 2 show at the Hollywood Palladium (the first of four Los Angeles shows that will cap off the farewell tour), Reznor is quitting at the top of his game.

Even while battling a cold, Reznor was in terrific voice, leading his NIN bandmates (guitarist Robin Finck, bassist Justin Mendal-Johnsen, and drummer Ilan Rubin) through a wide-ranging two-hour set that ran the gamut from a start-to-finish performance of his classic 1994 album The Downward Spiral to more recent material from last year’s The Slip to a surprise guest appearance by Gary Numan.

NIN had already performed Spiral at a recent New York show, so it didn’t take long for fans to catch on when the band took the stage and tore into “Mr. Self Destruct.” As I wrote in an earlier column, the full-album performance is making a comeback, and The Downward Spiral is one of the best ideas to emerge from that trend. Put back into their original context, the live staples “March of the Pigs” and “Closer” felt fresh and new. This lean, stripped-down version of NIN lent itself well crushing versions of album tracks like “The Becoming,” “I Do Not Want This,” “Eraser,” and especially “Reptile.” Rubin in particular provided a level of rawness not seen since NIN’s earliest incarnations.

After closing the Spiral portion of the show with a predictably jaw-dropping rendition of “Hurt,” the band launched into a much looser set that drew heavily on 1989’s Pretty Hate Machine, 1991’s Broken, and last year’s The Slip. Despite apologizing several times for being sick, Reznor sounded great the entire night. The band was absurdly tight, nailing the stop-start riffing of “Terrible Lie” and the mechanical rhythms of “Suck.”

When Reznor initially announced this farewell tour, he hinted at the possibility of surprise guests. At earlier shows, he brought out Bauhaus frontman Peter Murphy to cover Joy Division. At the Palladium, he introduced ‘80s synth-pop icon Gary Numan, explaining that Numan’s Tubeway Army played an integral role in shaping NIN’s early sound. He then let Numan lead his band through terrific readings of “Metal” and “Cars,” before returning to the spotlight to close the set with raucous versions of “The Hand That Feeds” and “Head Like a Hole.”

It is difficult to imagine any NIN fan being disappointed by the shows Reznor is ending his 20-year run with. I’m hard-pressed to think of a time when he’s sounded better or more confident or led a sharper band. If this really is the end of NIN, Reznor is leaving behind a legacy of consistency, innovation, and class. Between his recent spurning of record labels, the extensive anti-scalping precautions taken at these last shows, the inspired openers he hand-picks (Mew and Queen Kwong both delivered killer warm-up sets at the Palladium), and the impossibly high level on which his band is performing, Reznor is going out of his way for NIN to make the best last impression possible.

Setlist:

9/2/2009 – Hollywood Palladium, Los Angeles, California

1.Mr Self Destruct
2.Piggy
3.Heresy
4.March of the Pigs
5.Closer
6.Ruiner
7.The Becoming
8.I Do Not Want This
9.Big Man With a Big Gun
10.A Warm Place
11.Eraser
12.Reptile
13.The Downward Spiral
14.Hurt
15.1,000,000
16.Terrible Lie
17.Lights In The Sky
18.Burn
19.Gave Up
20.Suck
21.Metal w/ Gary Numan
22. Cars /w Gary Numan
23. The Hand That Feeds
24. Head Like A Hole

Videos:

“Piggy”

“Ruiner”

“Reptile”

“Hurt”

“Terrible Lie”

“Metal” w/ Gary Numan

“Cars” w/ Gary Numan

Photos:

It’s been almost a decade since Andrew Bird has come to Edinburgh, previous trips to Scotland taking him west to Glasgow where a better choice of venues are available. But while Glasgow has musical variety and a great and bustling music scene to offer, Edinburgh has space and landscapes, places to easily escape, even when the streets are hectic with Festival-goers. And to me, this works in favour of Bird’s music. Though the material on Armchair Apocrypha seemed to at times go against the a world full of aeroplanes and technological (and scientific) advances in life, Noble Beast seemed more focused on nature itself, looking to understand why things have evolved to their current state. Even though songs were tinged with a sort of black and wry humour regarding a sort of impending doom we all face, it always found itself referring back to the ground we live on and from, the landscapes we live in and the way we transform our lifestyles to it.

Though Emma Pollock sports a more rugged and electric sound, her presence is comfortable even though this is her first time in this near new venue. Though her songs shine through the sometimes chunky riffs and tackling drums, her Scottish voice and charm help her through her half hour supporting slot. As her set goes on, her supporting group wander off stage, eventually leaving her on her own with her electric guitar. She strums though a new song which, despite being just her on stage, already sounds like something she has bigger intentions for and is confident with. She is after all, as the last song on her enjoyable solo debut Watch The Fireworks suggests, “The Optimist”.

One of the great strengths of Andrew Bird live is his ability to transform any of his work into something spectacular. He arrives on stage and begins with the deceptive sounding “The Water Jet Cilice”, looping almost ferocious strums of his violin and slightly haunting whistling which echo “First Song”. When it appeared as a more fleshed out version on his Soldier On EP, its sounded empty until the violin loops came in towards the end of the song but still, they were too buried to have a greatly lasting effect. Here, because we get to see it from the beginning, it sounds more laboured and intense and catches the audience by surprise as the dizzying violin takes shape.

Going it solo, the focus is purely on Bird centre stage with nothing more than a toy monkey and his revolving speaker to detract attention elsewhere. Yet, his stage presence is clever and he keeps the audience engaged and amused with short stories of songs origins. But his humour is best when it’s in the songs themselves. “Sweet Matter”, an infusion of “Dark Matter” and its original form “Sweetbreads”, has listeners charmed by the reworking of one of the centre points of Armchair Apocrypha. But when the chorus of “I could taste what you were thinking/ That’s the taste of neurons blinking” comes along, the crowd chuckle and you can see a smile in Bird’s face, still enjoying the reaction, or indeed the line itself, after years of performing it. But the highlight has to be his superbly dry and dead-pan delivery of “Why?” between his itching body movements as he pins down the timing of the chord patterns. The music Bird creates is so full of ideas and while its construction in a live show can envelope some, it could also bring others to a complex, finding there to be too much to try and grasp. But the humour he seeps in and around the songs keep the latter group involved, acting as the point of accessibility for some even.

Though the setlist tonight was focused on material from Noble Beast, from the appropriate Scottish lilt of “Effigy” to the jolting and lyrically magnificent “Anonanimal”, it felt varied. “A Nervous Tic Motion Of The Head To The Left” charged along on an up-tempo pizzicato riff while a version of the blues classic “Keep Your Lamps Trimmed and Burning” was a given a slight swing with jagged edge. “Scythian Empires” closed the initial set with it subtle and beautiful melodies while Bird had candy cane swirls floating around on a projection behind him, perhaps a reference to the beginning song’s lyrics. The audience were also treated to a premiere of a new untitled song. Though only a skeleton on guitar, his lyrics were fixed and heavy with nautical references from sea life to warships. He sings of “planting mines across the shore”, juxtaposing deathly war images with his lulling and light voice, leaving the listener only to wonder where he can take the song over time.

By the time he came to the end of his encore with “Weather Systems” a sort of dulled yellow morning light bathed the audience, with their eyes fixed on the stage. Bird wandered round in a little circle, with his eyes flickering, hearing the music come together in his head. I wonder if it sounds as incredible to him as it does to the hundreds stood stock still in the Picturehouse?

The fact that a show included in the Edinburgh Fringe was moved across to Glasgow was inconvenient in itself. But when your bus home collides with another, you begin to re-evaluate the evening you had. Was travelling all that way really worth what could have been something a hell of lot worse?

Taking the show away from the festival hustle of the now crowded streets of Edinburgh to just generally kind of busy streets of Glasgow makes the show feel like something else. Then again, I can’t imagine it meant a lot to the band for all they gained was a better (and familiar) venue. When performing Múm seemed trapped in their own little world where location isn’t necessarily key. All they wish to do is lull the crowd that gathers into their childish Neverland where you sing every note like it’s your last (or first) and break out the flutes and harmonicas whenever you can.

But before the presence of Múm could draw in or confuse those present, Scottish band My Latest Novel took up supporting duties. Coming across as an sort of more accessible version of The Twilight Sad with thickening instrumental melodies and welcoming vocals the band’s most intriguing feature this evening was how much they contrasted the type of music the headlining band were going to provide. But that played in their favour, for surely another band of full of childish enthusiasm would have made for too much sweetness in the space of one evening. With breaks of violin and organ, My Latest Novel always seemed to have something up their sleeves, whether it be a sudden change in tempo or the way their presence on stage reminded me of Dirty Projectors.

Thankfully for Múm most of the songs from their new album, Sing Along To Songs You Don’t Know, transfer well onto the stage. Even opening song “If I Were A Fish” worked surprisingly well, as electric guitar slid it through its otherwise sparse instrumentation, until at last the drums came charging in towards the end. From a clattering introduction of odd maracas then came the delightful “Marmalade Fires” which swam along without trouble. And from this you could probably evaluate the rest of the material from the night. Taking songs from their last two albums is all to be expected but its saddening that all thoughts of their early material seem to be extinguished. Then again, I never held out hope for hearing “Green Grass Of Tunnel”.

As said, the songs from their last albums do fare well live and probably result in something more interesting to watch as they take up instruments like violins, guitars, ukuleles, melodicas, harmonicas and whole bunch of others. The transition from the flutes to harmonicas as the band went from the sweeps of “Dancing Behind My Eyelids” to the random bursts of “They Made Frogs Smoke ‘Til They Exploded” made a great coupling of songs and a reminder that the band can create a strong fusion of their juvenile tendencies and enjoyable music.

And yet, as great as “Sing Along” and “Hullaballabalú” were, along with many other songs, they felt like wasted opportunities live. The vocals melodies are so simple they could be known to anyone within a couple of minutes and from this could have sprouted good audience involvement. “We want to make you sing along” they sing, but they don’t really make any effort to back up the lyrics.

Despite this Múm are still entertaining to watch. They put every ounce of energy they have into every note and aren’t scared of going off track into spontaneous solos with whatever instrument they happen to be holding. And they did give those who still enjoy the older stuff and distorted yet enveloping version of “Smell Memory” as an encore which cut short the slower build in favour of dizzying loops and unrecognizable noise, beneath which the jolting copper-box hook emerged. But as fruitful a show as this may have been, the first thing I’m likely to mention about the night is the bus crashing on the way home. It was dramatic but today I’m ok.

Brand New don’t play in the UK very often, in fact they did not touch down on British shores at all in 2008. For a band with such a strong British following this may seem a bit unfair, but it turns out it may well be a blessing in disguise. Brand New were not in the UK promoting a new album and the fact that they were playing a relatively intimate venue (2300 person capacity; half the size of what they have sold out previously) gave the evening a ‘for the fans’ atmosphere. This was backed up by the set list, which consisted of plenty of old favorites from the band’s first two albums, Your Favorite Weapon and Deja Entendu, that have barely seen the light of day whilst Brand New have been on tour in their native USA.

In fact the first half of the show consisted solely of their older, more straightforward, emo anthems. Upon taking to the stage the band burst straight into ‘The Shower Scene’ shortly followed up by ‘The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows’. The exuberant crowd sang every word at the top of their lungs whilst bouncing violently in time with the songs. These livelier numbers were followed up by the slower ‘The No Seat Belt Song’ which allowed the crowd to rest their legs for a short period but at the same time meant that they could raise their voices to a new peak.

Brand New played a few more older tracks before new song ‘Gasoline’ kicked off the second half of the set which, apart from one other new song, consisted entirely of songs from their most recent album The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me. For this segment of the show the crowd was still singing, but not quite as deafeningly, allowing themselves more opportunity to admire the musicianship and craft of these later songs. Singer Jesse Lacey gave it his all; screaming his lungs out in ‘Sowing Season’ and then switching to his a mellower croon for the sermon-like ‘Jesus’, captivating the audience throughout.

Towards the end of the set Lacey, with one of his few moments of speech of the evening made sure to let the crowd know how much they appreciate the support of their fans, a sentiment that was returned with enthusiastic applause. They closed out the main set with two of their finest songs ‘Degausser’ and ‘You Won’t Know’.

The band left the stage but the crowd was going nowhere, demanding the encore that they, and the band themselves earned. A smiling Jess Lacey returned to the stage and grabbed his acoustic guitar to play a tongue-in-cheek, yet surprisingly faithful cover of The Temptations’ classic ‘My Girl’, which may not fit with Brand New’s aesthetic, but was a welcome surprise anyway, and it was a shame that he cut it short after the first chorus. The following double header of ‘Mix Tape’ and ‘Seventy Times 7′, both from their debut album saw the crowd at their loudest and liveliest all night, particularly during the latter.

The final song of the evening was a great surprise and a truly special moment. Lacey, alone on the stage played an acoustic cover of the Neutral Milk Hotel song ‘Oh Comely’ from a record that he once called “the most beautiful album of all time”. For the majority of the crowd this seemed to be the first time they had ever heard the song, but the ones who knew the song had their mouths open in awe. Everyone without exception was stunned; it was the perfect way to end what was a loud, engrossing and overall stunning evening.

Photos by Danielle Judge

Setlist:

The Shower Scene
The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows
The No Seat Belt Song
Sic Transit Gloria… Glory Fades
Okay I Believe You But My Tommy Gun Don’t
Jaws Theme Swimming
Play Crack The Sky
Gasoline (New Song)
Sowing Season
Millstone
The Archers Bows Have Broken
Jesus
Luca
Brick/Bride (Title unsure – New Song)
Degausser
You Won’t Know
——————————————————————
My Girl (Temptations cover (first verse + chorus only))
Mix Tape
Seventy Times 7
Oh Comely (Neutral Milk Hotel cover)

Daisy’s Rumored Tracklist:

01. Vices
02. Bed
03. Restole
04. Gasoline
05. You Stole
06. Slide
07. Coming To Get You
08. Bride
09. I Am
10. Stones

The Fiery Furnaces’ new record isn’t out for another few weeks, but that didn’t stop the Chicago experimental garage rockers from playing the upcoming I’m Going Away in full – albeit a bit out of order – last night at Philadelphia’s Kung Fu Necktie.

From the moment the show was announced for the Fishtown hipster haven, something seemed amiss: why would a band like the Fiery Furnaces play a 120-person capacity bar when it’s accustomed to playing –and filling — venues four and five times the size?

Despite the unorthodox setting and lack of an opener, the Furnaces’ set started off innocently enough with a rendition of “Here Comes the Summer,” sans the electronic flourishes jettisoned by Matt Friedberger’s decision to play guitar all night.

As a result, the entire set was a whole lot more straightforward than we’ve come to expect from the Fiery Furnaces, but in sacrificing a bit of the band’s more radical tendencies, the resultant performance was a little noisier and a whole lot more boisterous than usual.

After a couple more Furnaces classics, the band got down to business: all twelve tracks from the as-yet-unreleased I’m Going Away, due out July 21st. It was the first time any of the songs had been played in public, but they were pretty damn tight for an inaugural performance.

As mentioned, the band went with a standard guitar-drums-bass lineup for the show, so missing was the new record’s ubiquitous piano, although if nothing else, the guitar adaptations rocked a little harder.

Finally, after churning through all the new material – well received, by the way, for a 45-minute stretch of music completely foreign to the audience – the band closed with a few songs from 2007’s Widow City and “Worry Worry” from Gallowsbird’s Bark before returning to the stage for an encore with “Single Again.”

All in all, the show was the sort of intimate experience every fan hopes for as his favorite band gets bigger and bigger, but one that’s usually the stuff of fantasy. Last night, though, it was all real.